• 


FIRST    POEMS 


WILDIE    THAYER 


BOSTON 
THE  MORNING   STAR   PUBLISHING   HOUSE 

1895 


3  $"39- 


Copyright,  1895, 

BY  WILDIE  THAYER. 


To  the  Reader : 


As  the  message  came  directly 
From  sweet  Nature's  heart  to  mine, 

May  it  by  some  subtle  process 
Gain  access  to  heart  of  thine. 


PREFACE. 


PREFACE. 

The  child  should  be  allowed  to  recite  the  simple  lesson  he 
has  learned,  and  should  not  be  harshly  criticized  or  silenced 
by  his  elders,  and  if  he  studies  lovingly  and  faithfully  we 
may  expect  better  things  of  him  in  the  future.  Bear  this  in 
mind,  critic,  and  remember  that  the  writer  of  these  poems  is 
only  a  child  of  Nature  who  realizes  the  immaturity  of  these 
her  first  poems. 

It  is  only  after  much  hesitation  that  this  little  book  is  given 
to  the  public,  for  many  of  the  poems  in  it  were  written  in  early 
childhood.  Critics  will  no  doubt  discover  abundance  of 
mistakes,  but  is  it  too  much  to  ask  that  these  may  be  kindly 
overlooked,  and  that  the  readers  will  instead  accept  the 
lessons  which  the  writer  has  tried  to  recite,  and  forgive  the 
blundering  way  in  which  they  are  expressed  ? 

If  the  fragrance  of  a  genuine  love  of  Nature  inspires  those 
who  read  these  first  poems  to  love  Nature  more,  to  watch 
more  closely  her  various  moods,  and  to  find  hidden  beauty  in 
everything,  they  have  accomplished  their  mission. 

WILDIE  THAYER. 

Bates  College,  Lewiston,  Me. 
May  30, 


INDEX. 


INDEX. 

PAGE 

A  Shell     •  •       i 

Nature       ...  .                              .3 

Haunted    •  •                    ...       4 
Be  Sunny .                    ......       6 

The  Brook  and  the  Wind  .                                         •       7 

Ambition's  Hill   .  .       9 

Gloomy     •  ...                    .12 

Opportunity        •  •      *3 

A  Memory  •                    •      14 

Trials        .  •                              •      16 

Reflections.    I.    .  •                               -17 

Reflections.    II.  .  -      19 

Listen        .  -21 

In  the  Moonlight  •     22 

Step  by  Step        .  •     25 

A  Dialogue         .  •     26 

To  the  Flowers    .  -     29 

To  the  Stars        .  •      30 

King  Sunshine's  Choice  •      31 

Her  Bridal  Veil   .  •      34 

A  Tree  and  a  Flower     .  •      39 

Autumn     .  •                     .40 

King  Winter       .  •     41 

The  Seasons       .  •     42 

Death        .  -      43 

To  a  Bereaved  One      .  •     44 

Dreams     ...  •                                -45 

The  Fern  .  •     46 

The  Wood-nymph's  Song  .                                         •     48 

The  Three  Wishes        .  •      50 

Some  Say  .  -52 


viii  INDEX. 


PAGE 

A  Few  Wild  Flowers    .  ...      54 

Sin  .........      56 

Who  Doubts-? '       •      57 

Life's  Morning  and  Evening   .          .          .          .  -58 

A  Lesson  from  the  Flowers     .          .          .          .  -59 

The  Mountain  Breeze  and  the  Ocean  Breeze         .          .     62 
Tiresome  Sometimes     .          .          .          .          .          .64 

The  March  Wind          .          .          .          .          .          .     65 

The  Advent  of  Music    ......     67 

Setting  Sun          .  »          .          .      70 

Growth  in  Heaven        .          .          .          .          .          -71 

Satan        ........     73 

Why?        .  .      74 

Just  a  Cabin       .......      75 

Sweet  Home        .......     76 

Weavers   .  ......      79 

Air-castles  .          .          .          .          .          .81 

Goldenrod  .......     82 

Lady  Chesby      .  .....     84 

Freaky      .  .....      90 

Easter  Lily          .  ...     91 

Discontent          .......     94 

The  Ocean's  Bride        ......     96 

At  the  Seaside     .......     97 

Vacillating  ....  .98 

Sabbath  in  the  Mountains       .          .          .          .          -99 

To  a  Mountain  Brook   .          .          .          .          .          .    100 

Daily  Bread        .          .          .          .          .          .          .    101 

Twilight    .  ......    102 

Midnight  ........    103 

The  Drunkard's  Wife  .          .          .          .          .          .104 

Bona  and  Mala    .          .          .          .          .          .          .    106 

The  Reason  Why          ......    108 

Whippoorwill      .......    109 

Lilac         .  ......    no 

Mary in 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

Heaven      .  .          .          .          .          .          .  .    n4 

The  Child  .  .115 

Strange      .  .  .    116 

White  Violets     .  ...    117 

Blue  Violets        .  .    118 

Cynicism  .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .119 

Land  of  Imagination     ......    120 

Trust         .  .....    121 

Money       ........    122 

Presentiment       .......    123 

Don't  Be  Deceived        ...  .124 

Dandelion  .  ....    125 

Day  and  Night    .  .126 

In  Union  Is  Strength     ......    128 

A  Special  Place    .  .  •    129 

Anywhere  .  .  .130 

Showers  of  Blessing     .  .    130 

To  a  Pansy         .          •          •          .         ,.          .          -131 
To  a  Pansy          .          .          .          .          .  .          .132 

Unheard  Melodies         .  .    133 

A  Lesson  .  .  ....    134 

Stamped    .  .  .    135 

Nature  Breaks  Her  Fast          .          .          .          .          .136 

An  Object  Lesson         .          .          .          .          .          -137 

Hate          ...  .  .140 

Missionary  Lesson  from  Nature        .  •    141 

Thanksgiving     .......    142 

Story  of  Life       .          .          .          .          .          .          -143 

Rest  and  Work   .  .  .    145 

Atlantic     ........    146 

Cloud-Edens       .  .  -147 

Introspection        .          .          .          .          .  .        .          .    151 


Pink-tinted  shell, 
Thy  history  tell, 

0  tell  it  all  to  me  ; 
1  bend  my  ear, 
A  sound  I  hear, 

An  echo  of  the  sea. 

Like  memory's  gleams, 
Like  mystic  dreams, 
A  throb  of  Ocean's  heart ; 
Thy  secret  well 
Thou  guardest,  shell, 

1  know  not  what  thou  art. 

To  Nature  dear 

I  bend  my  ear, 
To  hear  her  secret  sweet ; 

But,  like  the  shell, 

She  will  not  tell, 
I  hear  her  heart's  loud  beat. 

To  Nature  given 
A  sound  of  heaven  ; 

It  throbs  within  her  breast ; 
O  bend  thine  ear, 
And  thou  shalt  hear 

An  echo  of  your  guest. 


A    SHELL. 


The  breath  of  God 

Is  in  the  sod, 
His  life  is  in  the  air; 

I  feel,  I  feel ! 

He  does  reveal 
That  he  is  everywhere  ! 


NATURE. 


Nature. 

Do  you  ask  me  to  tell  you  of  Nature 
When  flowers  are  under  your  feet  ? 

If  you'll  look  you  can  trace  her  quite  clearly 
In  petals  of  flowers  so  sweet. 

Do  you  ask  me  to  tell  you  of  Nature 
When  in  stillness  and  darkness  of  night  ? 

Just  see  !  She  is  written  above  you 
In  stars  shining  coldly  and  bright. 

Do  you  ask  me  to  tell  you  of  Nature 
When  her  manner  seems  lonely  and  cold  ? 

List  to  the  wind  in  its  moaning, 
'Twill  all  Nature's  sorrow  unfold. 

Do  you  ask  me  to  tell  you  of  Nature 
When  her  beauty  seems  almost  divine? 

List  to  the  birds,  they  sing  of  her; 
Their  language  is  sweeter  than  mine. 

O  listen  for  Nature  ;  she's  calling 
From  tiniest  dainty  flower-bells. 

No  one  can  tell  you  of  Nature, 
For  Nature  her  own  story  tells. 


HAUNTED. 


Hatmted. 

Children's  hearts  are  filled  with  fancies, 

Filled  with  visions,  phantoms  fair, 
Magic  pictures,  drawn  by  fairies, 

Hung  in  castles  made  of  air. 
Through  their  hearts  roam  ghosts  impatient, 

Thoughts  of  future,  dreams  of  fame. 
Children's  hearts  are  light  and  merry, 

But  are  haunted  all  the  same. 

Hearts  of  youth  are  strangely  haunted  ; 

Ghosts  from  fairy-land  appear : 
And  they  whisper  gently,  "  There  are 

Brighter  spirits  lurking  near." 
Thoughts  of  life,  of  love,  and  passion 

Haunt  their  hearts,  ah,  sadly  true! 
Hearts  of  youth  are  fiery,  loving, 

But  are  haunted  through  and  through. 

Hearts  of  manhood,  filled  with  power, 

Passion,  life,  are  haunted  yet — 
Haunted  by  lamenting  spirits, 

Singing  threnodes  of  regret. 
Manhood  then  rebels,  defiant ; 

Shuts  the  heart  and  veils  the  eyes, 
But  soon  trembles,  fearing,  grieving, 

As  the  dread  ghosts  stronger  rise. 


HAUNTED. 


Aged  hearts  ?     How  are  they  haunted  ? 

Ah,  by  visions  of  the  past ! 
By  the  restless  thoughts  of  present, 

By  a  hand  descending  fast, 
By  the  world  of  spirits  round  them, 

Which  they  feel,  but  cannot  see, 
By  the  fear  to  trust  the  slumber 

Which  will  take  them  there  to  be. 


BE    SUNNY. 


Does  the  world  seem  void  of  beauty  ? 

Does  your  home  with  shade  abound  ? 
Then  this  is  your  binding  duty  : 

Be  the  brightest  thing  around. 


THE  BROOK  AND  THE  WIND. 


Tl)e  groo^  and  tl>e  Wind, 


Said  the  brook  to  the  wind, 

"  Do  you  not  envy  me, 
As  I  flow  to  the  ocean, 

So  merry  and  free  ? 
I'm  as  gay  as  the  birds 

That  fly  over  my  head. 
The  sky  is  my  covering, 

The  earth  is  my  bed. 

"  And  people,  when  passing, 

Will  often  draw  near, 
To  hear  my  sweet  voice 

So  ringing  and  clear  ; 
And  wish  that  they  too 

Were  so  happy  and  free. 
Ho,  loud,  harsh-voiced  wind, 

Do  you  not  envy  me  ?  " 

The  wind  loudly  whistled, 

And  said,  "  My  dear  friend, 
Why  you  I  should  envy 

I  don't  comprehend. 
You  run  to  the  ocean 

Confined  in  a  bowl, 
While  I've  the  great  world 

Beneath  my  control. 


THE  BROOK  AND  THE  WIND. 


"  'Tis  true  that  your  voice 

Is  ringing  and  clear, 
But  no  one  can  hear  you 

Unless  he  draws  near. 
My  breath  moves  the  world, 

I  am  free,  I  am  wild. 
Pray,  why  should  I  envy 

You,  Brook,  simple  child  ?" 

There  was  silence  a  moment, 

As  over  the  world 
Queen  Night  her  damp  mantle 

Of  darkness  unfurled. 
The  heavens  were  darkened, 

The  stars  forth  did  peep  ; 
Then,  the  brook  and  the  wind 

Sang  each  other  to  sleep. 


AMBITION'S    HILL. 


Ambition's  Hill. 

Impatient  soul,  on  yonder  height 

Thy  airy  castle  stands  ; 
Around  it  floats  a  dazzling  light, 

Within  are  fairy  bands. 
The  way  is  long  and  drear,  I  know, 

But  fame  and  wealth  are  there  ; 
Come,  gird  thy  armor  on  and  go, 

And  gain  thy  castle  fair. 

Why  linger  in  the  vale  and  sigh? 

Others  have  reached  the  goal. 
Come,  lay  thy  fears  aside  and  fly  ; 

Haste  thee,  thou  trembling  soul ! 
This  lowly  vale  hath  nothing  grand, 

And  little  great  or  new  ; 
But  toil  and  reach  the  airy  land, 

And  find  a  glorious  view. 

Thou  seest  the  storm-cloud  brooding  o'er, 

Thou  tremblest  at  the  sight ; 
Thou  hear'st  the  latent  thunder  roar, 

Seest  thou  the  stars  of  light? 
Then  know  that  he  who  climbs  the  hill, 

And  conquers  in  the  fight, 
And  journeys  near  the  storm-clouds  will 

Be  nearer  stars  of  light. 


AMBITION'S     HILL. 


Courage,  my  soul !     Ascend  the  hill. 

Bravo  !     You're  on  the  track. 
Let  thirst  for  fame  thy  being  thrill, 

And  do  not  turn  thee  back. 
Faster,  O  fast,  impatient  soul ! 

Thy  castle  gleams  afar ! 
Nearer,  ah  nearer,  to  the  goal. 

Follow  the  guiding  star ! 


The  storms  roar,  the  lightning  gleams, 

The  way  is  dark  and  long  ; 
Dreary  the  toilsome  journey  seems  ; 

O  soul,  be  very  strong. 
Onward,  heed  not  the  chasms  deep ; 

Surmount  them,  soul,  be  brave  ; 
And  journey  on  while  thousands  sleep 

And  thousand  others  rave. 


Hurrah  !     A  light  above  the  world 

Dawns  for  thy  waiting  soul ; 
Dispelled  are  clouds  and  storms  and  night, 

For  thou  hast  reached  thy  goal. 
The  weary  way  thou  hast  o'ercome, 

Now  gaze  adown  the  vale  ; 
Around  thee  fame  and  praises  hum, 

But  hear  thy  followers  wail. 


AMBITION'S    HILL. 


Come,  rest  thee  in  thy  castle  fair  ; 

Let  weapons  round  thee  fly. 
Look  calmly  on,  thy  home  is  rare, 

Thy  resting-place  is  high. 
Thou  gazest  down  the  weary  way  ; 

Adown  Ambition's  hill. 
Ah,  soul,  why  dost  thou  gaze  and  say, 

"  I'm  discontented  still  "? 


GLOOMY. 


Everything  looks  wrong  to-day 
I  am  cross-eyed  in  a  way  ! 
Nothing  proper  is  at  all ! 
A  parhelion  is  Old  Sol ! 


OPPORTUNITY. 


Opportunity. 

Do  you  see  that  butterfly  ? 
Catch  it,  grasp  it,  while  'tis  nigh. 


A    MEMORY. 


(J 


The  night  is  lone  and  drear, 
The  fierce  wind  whistles  shrill  ; 

At  every  rustle  that  I  hear 
With  fear  my  pulses  thrill. 

A  form  from  out  the  past 

Before  me  smiling  stands  ; 
With  longing  gaze  she  holds  me  fast, 

And  beckons  with  her  hands. 

"  Fiend!  "  I  cry.     "  Why  raise  again 

The  dreams  I  had  forgot  ? 
Why  waken  joy  and  grief  and  pain  ? 

Depart  !     Torment  me  not  ! 

"  Nay,  I'll  not  go  forth  with  thee. 

Back  to  thy  resting-place  ! 
Ah,  haunting  memory,  let  me  be  ! 

Go,  hide  from  me  thy  face. 

"  Back  to  thy  weeping  willows  go, 
With  all  thy  secrets  hence  ; 

Haste  to  thy  grave,  there  lay  thee  low, 
And  rest  in  permanence. 


A    MEMORY. 


"But  stay!     O  lovely  child, 

I  cannot  let  thee  go ; 
Stay  with  me,  for  the  night  is  wild, 

Hark,  how  the  rough  winds  blow  ! 

"  Bide  with  me  through  the  lonely  night, 
Stay  while  the  mad  winds  rave  ; 

But  when  appears  the  morning  light 
I'll  scourge  thee  to  thy  grave." 


TRIALS. 


Trials. 

Sweet  is  the  song 
The  Christian  sings 

"  Trials  are  shadows 
Of  angels'  wings." 


REFLECTIONS. 


Reflections. 


PART  I. 

"  There  is  no  God,"  the  scoffer  says, 
"  No  God,  no  hell,  no  heaven  ; 

Worthless,  unnumbered  are  our  days, 
No  Christ  the  world  was  given. 

"  Earth  came  by  chance,  and  all 

Within  it  is  a  breath  ; 
We  come,  we  live  here,  then  we  fall, 

The  end  of  us  is  death. 

"  Nothing  is  lasting,  good  or  ill ; 

Who  ever  saw  a  soul  ? 
The  earth  exists,  it  always  will ; 

For  e'er  the  years  will  roll. 

"  We  are.     1  grant  'tis  best  to  live 

A  moral  life;  and  then 
Through  life,  in  death,  we  will  receive 

Favor  from  fellow-men. 


REFLECTIONS. 


"  Live  well,  'tis  best;  then  bravely  die, 

Nor  superstitious  seem. 
Whether  we  smile  or  deeply  sigh, 

This  life  is  but  a  dream. 

"  We  scorn  the  superstitious  ones 

Of  many  years  agone, 
Years  hence,  when  ashes  are  our  bones, 

Our  children  men  are  grown ; 

"Our  wild  beliefs,  our  thoughts  of  heaven, 

Of  God,  of  Christ,  of  soul — 
The  same  derision  will  be  given, 

Still  on  the  years  will  roll. 

4 

"  Then  throw  the  word  called  God  away, 

Untrue  its  writers,  preachers ; 
Be  honest,  moral,  but  be  gay, 

Earth  is  the  best  of  teachers. 

"  If  one  should  ask  who  rules  our  earth, 
And  whence  this  power  so  broad ; 

Then  turn  and  ask  him  in  your  mirth, 
'  Whence  came  the  wondrous  God  ?  ' 

"  An  instant,  just,  from  life  to  death  ; 

Creation  is  a  dream. 
Live  on,  be  moral,  yield  your  breath, 

Nor  superstitious  seem." 


REFLECTIONS. 


PART   II. 

"  There  is  a  God,"  the  Christian  says, 

"  A  God  eternal,  true; 
Who  knows  our  thoughts,  numbers  our  days, 

Who  cares  for  me  and  you. 

"  Who  made  the  earth,  created  all 

Within  it  by  a  breath ; 
Who  placed  us  here,  we  cannot  fall 

Into  eternal  death. 

"  Death  is  a  bridge,  and  when  we  stand 

Upon  it  we  may  trust 
In  God  to  guide  us  by  his  hand, 

He  promised,  and  he  must. 

"  I  trust  in  God,  and  peace  I  find  ; 

A  Saviour  died  for  me. 
1  groped  in  darkness,  I  was  blind  ; 

Christ  came,  and  now  I  see. 

"  And  yet  sometimes  I  doubt,  I  feel 

My  own  foundation  fall ; 
'Mid  surging  passions  now  I  reel, 

Yet  God  is  all  in  all. 

"  1  pray,  and  Jesus  can  becalm 

A  troubled  soul  at  will ; 
He  with  me,  I  can  see  no  harm  ; 

He  speaks,  and  all  is  still. 


REFLECTIONS. 


"  I  know  the  Word  of  God  is  good, 

It  satisfies  my  soul. 
It  has  for  years,  for  ages,  stood  ; 

Will  stand  while  ages  roll. 

"  There  is  a  power,  mighty,  broad  ; 

This  scoffers  will  allow. 
But  whence  this  wondrous  power  of  God 

We  cannot  answer  now. 

"  Nor  should  we  seek  to  know  our  God. 

A  heathen's  god  is  slim  ; 
If  we  could  understand  our  God 

We  could  not  worship  him. 

"  Let  scoffers  laugh,  I'll  trust  in  God. 

He  is  my  help,  my  guide  ; 
I'm  safe  above,  beneath  the  sod, 

A  Christ  for  me  has  died." 


LISTEN. 


Listen. 

When  you  know  not  what  to  do, 

When  you're  tempted,  faint,  and  weak, 

Fall  upon  your  knees  and  listen, 
Listen,  listen,  God  will  speak. 

He  will  give  you  rest  and  quiet, 
He  will  make  your  heart  rejoice; 

When  you're  weak  and  heavy-laden, 
Listen  for  the  Heavenly  Voice. 


IN    THE    MOONLIGHT. 


In  tl)e  Aoonltcffyt. 

The  day  now  is  ending, 
The  dew  is  descending, 
The  shadows  are  flitting, 

Swift  to  and  fro  : 
While  above  I  see  faintly, 
Soft,  downy  clouds  quaintly 
Roll  in  masses  as  fair 

And  as  pure  as  the  snow. 

In  the  moonlight  I'm  sitting, 
My  thoughts  backward  flitting 
To  the  days  of  my  childhood, 

How  quickly  they  fled  ! 
Like  the  shadows  around  me 
They  passed,  then  youth  found  me  ; 
Joyous  youth,  bright  it  seemed, 

Like  the  moon  overhead. 

Now  with  me  it  travels, 
No  secret  unravels ; 
What  lies  in  my  future, 

Of  woe  or  of  weal, 
Whether  full  of  earth's  treasures, 
Of  sorrow  or  pleasures, 
The  pathway  before  me, 

It  cannot  reveal. 


IN    THE    MOONLIGHT. 


A  phantom  appeareth  ! 
Ah,  see,  now  it  neareth  ! 
"Speak,  speak,  brilliant  spirit, 

And  tell  me  your  name." 
"  My  name  is  Ambition, 
And  from  your  position 
I  gladly  will  lead  you 

To  highways  of  fame. 


"  Fame's  path  is  before  you, 
Its  riches  tower  o'er  you, 
In  wealth  and  in  greatness 

Your  life  may  abound. 
O  come,  let  me  lead  you, 
On  praise  I  will  feed  you, 
With  chant  of  your  genius 

The  world  shall  resound." 


Now  another  ghost  stealeth, 
And  quietly  kneeleth 
Before  me,  and  bids  me 

Attention  to  give. 
"  O  trust  me,"  she  pleadeth, 
"  It  is  I  your  life  needeth, 
To  guide  you  and  cheer  you 

While  striving  you  live. 


IN    THE    MOONLIGHT. 


"  Bid  Ambition  leave  you, 
She  only  would  grieve  you. 
Be  content,  and  seek  not 

To  be  great,  just  be  good. 
The  massive  trees  charm  thee, 
And  almost  alarm  thee  ; 
But  the  sweetness  of  flowers 

Tells  their  own  neighborhood." 

Her  voice  sweetly  trembled, 
Ambition  dissembled ; 
Ambition  and  Lowliness 

Cannot  agree. 
But  Lowliness  cheered  me, 
And  till  slumber  neared  me 
Her  wise  words  of  sweetness 

She  whispered  to  me. 

Anon  they  are  flitting, 
When  idly  I'm  sitting. 
Lowliness  will  kneel  humbly, 

Ambition  will  tower 
With  visions  of  splendor  ; 
Lowliness  whispers  tender, 
"  'Tis  sweetness,  not  greatness, 

The  charm  of  the  flower." 


STEP    BY    STEP. 


$tep  K  Step. 

Suppose  a  man  should  wish  to  cross 

A  stream,  and  in  his  pride 
Should  with  one  frantic  leap  attempt 

To  reach  the  other  side  ; 
Suppose  he  did  this  foolish  act, 

When  stepping  stones  were  nigh  ; 
He  then  would  meet  his  just  reward 

If  he  should  sink  and  die. 

Suppose  a  man  should  with  a  leap, 

While  standing  on  low  ground, 
Attempt  to  reach  on  ladder  tall 

The  very  highest  round. 
Suppose — suppose — why,  I  will  speak 

The  truth  without  deduction  : 
He'd  surely  fall,  and  break  his  neck, 

And  merit  his  destruction. 


26  A    DIALOGUE. 


A  Dialogue. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,  to  you. 

Pray,  why  are  you  keeping 
Such  early  hours,  sir  ? 

And  why  are  you  weeping  ? 

"  Pray  tell  me,  kind  sir, 
Why  roaming  these  hours  ? 

And  why  do  you  gather 
So  many  wild  flowers  ?" 

"Ah,  madam,  my  neighbor, 
Who  of  all  was  the  best, 

Kind,  good,  and  obliging, 
Has  gone  to  his  rest. 

"  His  death  was  so  sudden, 
In  peace  now  he's  sleeping. 

I  loved  my  good  neighbor, 
That's  why  I  am  weeping." 

"Dry  your  eyes,  my  good  man. 

I  am  sure  you  can  find 
Other  neighbors  as  honest 

As  he  was,  and  kind." 


A    DIALOGUE. 


"  No,  ma'am.     Such  a  neighbor 

Is  not  to  be  found, 
Should  I  search  till  I  died 

This  wide  world  around." 

"  Tell  me,  sir,  did  you  ever, 
While  your  neighbor  was  living, 

Gather  flowers  for  him,  as 
To  him  dead  you  are  giving  ? 

"  '  You  loved  him,'  you  say  ; 

'  He  was  good,'  you  have  said. 
Did  you  say  to  him  living 

What  you  say  of  him  dead  ? 

"  You  answer  not.     Ah, 

More  bitter  you  weep. 
Your  neighbor  knows  not, 

From  earth  he's  asleep. 

"  Grieve  on,  cease  not  weeping  ; 

Pluck  flowers  while  you  may  ; 
Talk  on,  spend  your  praises 

On  a  body  of  clay. 

"But  if  you  had  given 

The  half  of  such  praise 
While  he  lived,  'twould  have  cheered  him, 

Like  sunbeams'  bright  rays. 


A    DIALOGUE. 


"  You  say  I  am  cruel 
Thus  harshly  to  speak  ; 

Well,  maybe  I  am, 

But  my  comfort  is  weak. 

"  No  tear-drop  of  sorrow 

Can  I  weep  for  you  ; 
But  the  words  which  I  speak 

You  acknowledge  are  true. 

"  Hear  me  now  ere  I  leave  you, 

To  pass  on  my  way  : 
Gather  flowers  for  the  living, 

And  do  not,  I  pray, 

"  Wait  till  your  good  neighbors 
Are  gone  to  their  graves, 

To  pass  o'er  their  failures, 
Their  virtues  to  praise." 


TO    THE    FLOWERS. 


To  tl)e  Flower}. 

Sweet  flowers,  whene'er  I  see  you, 
It  seems,  I  know  not  why, 

That  you  are  heavenly  footprints 
Of  angels  passing  by. 


TO    THE    STARS. 


To  tl)e 


Supermundane 
Gems  on  high, 

You  are  jewels 
Of  the  sky. 


KING    SUNSHINE'S    CHOICE. 


I^tng 

"  I  will  choose  me  a  bride,"  said  King  Sunshine, 
"A  dainty  young  bride  from  the  flowers, 

To  partake  of  my  joys  and  my  pleasures, 
And  to  cheer  me  in  lonelier  hours. 

"  But  my  bride  must  be  smiling  and  fragrant, 

And  youthful  and  gentle  and  fair, 
Be  refined,  unassuming,  and  healthful, 

With  beauty  both  restful  and  rare." 

"Then    choose    me,"    cried    the    rose.      "I    am 

fragrant, 

Your  bride  I  right  gladly  would  be." 
"Though   you're   lovely   and   sweet,"    said    King 

Sunshine, 
"Your  boldness  unfits  you  for  me." 

Then  the  lily,  the  sweet,  stately  lily, 
Bowed  low,  and  with  eagerness  cried, 

"  See  me,  am  I  not  fair  and  lovely  ? 
Choose  me,  glowing  king,  for  your  bride." 

A  dark  frown  for  an  instant  o'ershadowed 

The  face  of  King  Sunshine  serene, 
Then  he  answered,  "  By  no  means,  proud  lily, 

Would  I  make  you  my  bride  and  my  queen." 


KING    SUNSHINE'S    CHOICE. 


"  Good  King  Sunshine,  see  me,"  cried  a  pansy. 

"  Is  not  my  face  lovely  and  sweet  ? 
Should  you  choose  me  your  queen  and  flower-bride 

Your  life  would  be  truly  complete." 

With  a  smile  then  King  Sunshine  made  answer, 
"  Though  your  face  is  as  bright  as  a  star, 

And  your  ways  are  both  gentle  and  winning, 
You  are  too  gaily  colored  by  far." 

"  See  me,"  sighed  the  daisy.     "  I'm  modest, 

Your  bride  I  am  longing  to  be." 
"Silence,  daisy  ;  you're  both  rude  and  rustic, 

And  much  too  uncultured  for  me." 

Then  a  voice  low  and  pleadingly  whispered, 

And  looking  down,  quite  at  his  feet, 
The  great  king  saw  a  dear  little  violet, 

Half-calling  in  tones  faint  and  sweet. 

"  Dainty  fairy,"  he  said,  "  you  are  pretty, 

And  yet  you  are  slender  and  small ; 
So,  you  see,  for  a  bride  to  King  Sunshine 

You  are  not  adapted  at  all." 

Then  the  king,  who  was  thus  vainly  seeking 

A  bride  suited  just  to  his  taste, 
Saw  beneath  a  scant  covert  of  green  leaves 

A  beautiful,  smiling,  sweet  face. 


KING    SUNSHINE'S    CHOICE. 


Not  a  word  said  this  modest  pink  flower, 
But  the  king  knew  by  instinct  her  name ; 

And  she  trembled  in  joy  and  confusion 
At  hearing  him  gently  exclaim  : 

"Ah,  beauties,  you  cannot  escape  me, 

1  see  you  there  hiding  so  low, 
And  1  choose  you  my  bride."     So  we  call  her 

Arbutus — ah,  beauties — you  know. 


HER    BRIDAL    VEIL. 


Her  gridal  Vett. 

In  a  castle  of  old  England 

Lived  a  maiden  young  and  fair, 
With  a  face  of  wondrous  beauty 

Crowned  with  curls  of  golden  hair. 
And  her  heart  was  pure  and  guileless, 

Like  the  beauty  of  her  face  ; 
Sweeter  maid  was  ne'er  created 

Than  Lord  Erskine's  daughter  Grace. 

Poor  but  proud  was  Rupert  Erskine, 

Of  a  grand  and  noble  name. 
A  rich  husband  for  his  daughter 

Was  his  first  and  highest  aim. 
But  Grace  loved  a  humble  artist, 

And  his  image  filled  her  heart. 
He  was  poor  in  worldly  riches, 

Yet  would  give  his  life  for  art. 

"  Grace,  my  child,  come  here  a  moment, 

I  have  something  I  would  say," 
Called  Lord  Erskine  to  his  daughter, 

One  morn  in  the  month  of  May. 
Quickly  from  among  the  flowers, 

With  a  smile  upon  her  face, 
And  with  both  hands  full  of  roses, 

Came  his  lovely  daughter  Grace. 


HER    BRIDAL    VEIL. 


Said  the  stern  voice  of  her  father, 

"  Grace,  I  have  a  letter  here 
From  Sir  Henry  True ;  he  wants  you 

To  become  his  wife,  my  dear. 
He  is  wealthy,  he  is  famous, 

And  an  artist  of  degree. 
1  would  choose  him  from  all  others ; 

Sure  your  answer  yes  will  be." 


"  It  is  no.     I  do  not  love  him, 

And  my  heart  is  not  my  own  ; 
1  have  given  it  to  Arthur, 

Poor,  unknown,  brave  Arthur  Rhone. 
He  too  is  a  skilful  artist, 

And  he  is  a  noble  man. 
I  have  something  I  would  ask  you, 

Father,  listen  to  my  plan. 


"  Tell  them  both  to  paint  a  picture, 

Bid  them  choose  their  own  design  ; 
Tell  them  it  is  I  desire  it, 

Tell  them  that  the  plan  is  mine. 
And  that  he  whose  painted  picture 

Will  but  suit  my  father's  taste, 
He  shall  have  as  prize  of  merit 

Even  me,  your  daughter  Grace 


HER    BRIDAL    VEIL. 


How  he  laughed,  her  haughty  father. 

"  Let  him  paint  for  very  life, 
He  can  ne'er  produce  a  picture 

Which  could  win  you  for  his  wife." 
But  his  angry  look  soon  vanished, 

As  amusement  took  its  place. 
And  he  said,  "As  you  desire  it, 

I  will  grant  you  this  thing,  Grace." 


This  consent,  so  quickly  given, 

Made  the  daughter's  heart  rejoice, 
For  she  knew  her  noble  father 

Would  with  fairness  make  his  choice. 
Back  she  went  among  the  flowers, 

With  a  heart  quite  gay  and  light, 
Surely  birds  ne'er  sang  so  sweetly, 

And  the  sun  ne'er  shone  so  bright. 


How  they  worked,  those  two  young  artists 

Each  desired  to  do  his  best. 
Their  designs  at  last  were  chosen, 

All  their  skill  put  to  the  test. 
And  the  prize,  it  spurred  them  onward, 

The  reward  was  one  for  life. 
And  they  each  loved  sweet  Grace  dearly, 

Each  desired  her  for  his  wife. 


HER    BRIDAL    VEIL.  }7 


Rupert  Erskine's  house  was  crowded 

When  the  test  at  last  was  tried  ; 
People  wondered  at  this  contest 

For  a  fair  and  beauteous  bride. 
Great  indeed  the  consternation, 

For  the  earl  was  known  to  fame  ; 
People  wondered,  people  questioned, 

What  on  earth  could  be  his  aim. 


First  Sir  Henry  brought  his  picture; 

Every  one  it  seemed  to  suit, 
It  was  rarely  rich  and  perfect, 

'Twas  of  autumn-tinted  fruit. 
As  they  gazed,  the  birds  drew  near  it, 

Feeling  naught  of  natural  fright, 
And  Lord  Erskine  was  enraptured 

At  that  perfect  painted  sight. 


Surely  this  would  win  his  daughter ; 

Arthur  Rhone  could  never  make 
View  like  this,  so  grand,  so  perfect ; 

Surely  this  the  prize  would  take. 
As  for  Grace,  she  calmly  waited, 

Did  not  doubt  young  Arthur's  skill ; 
To  the  breathless  praise  she  listened, 

Listened,  hoping,  praying  still. 


HER    BRIDAL    VEIL. 


There  was  silence  for  a  moment ; 

Arthur  Rhone  came  through  the  crowd, 
In  his  arms  he  bore  a  picture, 

To  the  earl  he  lowly  bowed. 
"  Here,"  exclaimed  the  earl  in  anger, 

"  Take  the  veil  from  off  your  view!  " 
"  Nay,  my  lord,"  the  artist  answered  ; 

"I  shall  leave  that  work  for  you." 

The  earl  frowned,  tried  to  remove  it. 

"  Well,  by  all  the  stars  that  shine, 
'Tis  a  painted  veil,  'tis  perfect, 

Looks  like  silk,  of  texture  fine  !  " 
And  the  people  did  not  wonder, 

When  he  said,  "  This  suits  my  taste. 
You  have  won  her  fairly,  bravely  ; 

You  may  have  my  daughter  Grace." 

Said  young  Arthur,  freely,  kindly, 

As  he  took  Lord  Erskine's  hand, 
"  I  have  won  the  fairest  lady 

To  be  found  in  all  our  land." 
Henry  True  now  greeted  Arthur, 

As  his  manly  cheek  grew  pale, 
"  You  deserve  your  bride,  my  brother, 

You  designed  her  bridal  veil." 


A    TREE    AND    A    FLOWER. 


A  Tree  and  a  Flower. 

(What  the  tree  said:} 

"  To  bear  the  wind  and  rain  and  sleet, 
And  wintry  blasts,  I'm  fated  ; 

To  many  blows  I  am  exposed 
Because  I'm  elevated." 

A  flower,  nestling  at  his  feet, 
Could  hear  the  monarch  grumble, 

And  whispered  low,  in  sweet  content, 
"I'm  safe  because  I'm  humble." 


AUTUMN. 


Aatamn. 

Who  that  incendiary 

That  sets  the  forests  burning  ? 
Fair  Summer,  bowing,  answered  low7, 

"  My  brother  is  returning." 


KING    WINTER. 


Pjing  Winter. 

The  Autumn  wailed,  "  I  felt  his  breath." 
The  birds  departed,  frightened. 

The  heavens  frowned,  and  all  the  earth 
In  chilling  terror  whitened. 

The  flowers  clasped  his  frozen  hands, 
And  bended  low  to  greet  him  ; 

The  leaves,  all  clad  in  colors  gay, 
Then  sallied  forth  to  meet  him. 

King  Winter  came,  but  gave  the  earth 

A  coldly  warm  protection  ; 
Till  Spring  commanded,  "  Rise,  depart; 

I  am  the  resurrection." 


THE    SEASONS. 


Tl)e 


'Tis  Autumn;  the  forests  are  burning  with  beauty. 

A  veil  of  gay  figures  is  over  our  land, 
Which  soon  must  be  lifted,  O  beautiful  Autumn, 

True  symbol  of  life  here,  so  fleeting,  so  grand. 

A    wailing   is   heard   through   the    mountains    and 
valleys, 

'Tis  Winter,  the  flowers  bend  low  at  his  breath  ; 
His  cold  hand  descendeth,  his  presence  appeareth, 

O  cruel,  cold  Winter,  pure  symbol  of  death. 

The  sunlight  appeareth,  cold  Winter  is  yielding, 
Wings  rush  overhead,  sweet  bird-voices  sing. 

The  flowers  all  rise.     Of  the  glad  resurrection 
Is  Spring  a  true  symbol,  the  life-giving  Spring. 

More  sunlight,  more  music,  more  fathomless  glory, 
More  life  and  more  flowers  and  more  to  unfold  ; 

If  to  us  is  given  a  symbol  of  heaven, 

'Tis  Summer,  whose  beauties  can  never  be  told. 


DEATH. 


Deatl). 

He  surely  will  come, 
Your  soul  is  his  prize; 

He's  coming  to  take  it, 
So  just  close  your  eyes. 


And  yet  do  not  fear. 

He  is  gentle,  is  death ; 
All  he  asks  you  to  do 

Is  to  give  him  vour  breath. 


And  then  he  will  take  you 
To  the  home  you  have  made ; 

So  just  close  your  eyes, 
And  don't  be  afraid. 


TO    A    BEREAVED    ONE. 


To  a  Bereaved  One. 

And  is  your  loved  one  resting  ? 

And  do  you  almost  fear 
Your  heart  will  break  with  sorrow  ? 

Why  should  I  try  to  cheer  ? 

Ah,  weak  indeed  the  comfort 
Which  my  poor  wisdom  gives ; 

I'll  simply  beckon  you  to  heaven, 
For  there  thy  dear  one  lives. 


DREAMS. 


Dreamy. 

Weary  of  your  life,  you  say  ? 

Dark  your  pathway  seems  ? 
Once  your  life  was  glad  and  gay  ! 

Then  thank  God  for  dreams. 


46  THE    FERN. 


Tl)e  Pern. 

Violets  and  fairy  mayflow^rs, 

Buttercups  and  daisies  too, 
Roses,  lilies,  clover,  pansies, 

All  are  magical,  'tis  true. 
But  my  choice  in  the  botanic 

Is  a  species  never  tall, 
Grows  in  humid  soil,  is  verdant, 

But  is  not  a  flower  at  all. 

'Tis  not  popular  nor  petted, 

Is  not  beautiful  nor  coy  ; 
Yet  consider  it,  and  you  will 

All  these  adjectives  employ — 
Dainty,  gentle,  restful,  winning, 

Balmy,  comely,  fresh,  and  sweet ; 
Gifted  with  the  grace  of  fairies 

And  with  symmetry  complete  ; 

Never  haughty  nor  disdainful, 

But  of  graceful,  modest  mien  ; 
Not  high-colored,  but  contented 

With  a  dress  of  simple  green. 
Though  not  loved  by  all  or  many, 

Yet  to  me  it  is  the  best ; 
For  to  see  it  is  refreshing, 

In  its  presence  there  is  rest. 


THE    FERN. 


In  the  forest  you  may  find  it, 

You  may  find  it  in  the  dale, 
And  when  lonely  sit  beside  it 

And  contentment  you'll  inhale  ; 
For  its  balm  then  do  I  love  it, 

And  this  lesson  true  I  learn, 
There  is  rest  and  sweet  enchantment 

In  the  shadow  of  a  fern. 


48  THE    WOOD-NYMPH'S    SONG. 


Tl>e  ftJood-n^mpVs  $oncr. 


In  the  early  hours  of  morning, 

When  the  flowers  are  all  asleep, 
While  the  moon,  though  very  faintly, 

Doth  her  watch  o'er  slumber  keep; 
While  the  grass  with  dew  is  sparkling, 

And  the  bees  and  birds  are  still, 
Then  I  love  to  roam  the  forests, 

Love  to  wander  at  my  will. 

When  the  sun,  high  in  the  heavens, 

Gold  is  throwing  everywhere, 
While  the  flowers  their  bells  are  ringing 

In  the  balmy,  scented  air  ; 
While  the  birds  their  songs  are  singing, 

Which  to  charm  me  never  fail, 
Then  1  love  to  roam  the  forests, 

Nature's  beauty  to  inhale. 

In  the  evening,  in  the  twilight, 

When  the  birds  to  rest  have  gone, 
When  the  nightly  dew  is  falling, 

And  the  world  seems  sad  and  lone  ; 
When  the  only  singer  near  me 

Is  the  noisy  whippoorwill, 
Then  I  love  to  roam  the  forests, 

And  to  wander  where  I  will. 


THE    WOOD-NYMPH'S    SONG. 


In  the  solemn  hours  of  midnight, 

When  the  flowers  are  all  asleep, 
While  the  moon  in  all  her  radiance 

Doth  her  ceaseless  vigil  keep  ; 
When  I  too  am  lost  in  slumber, 

Knowing  not  what  Nature  tells, 
Then  I  love  to  roam  in  dreamland, 

Through  the  forest's  woody  dells.. 


THE    THREE    WISHES. 


Tl)e  Tl)ree 


"  If  I  should  see  a  fairy,  mamma, 

And  it  should  speak  to  me, 
And  would  give  me  what  I  wanted, 

Whatever  it  might  be, 
I'd  surely  ask  for  wealth,  dear  mamma, 

That  I  might  dress  so  fine  ; 
With  wealth,  position  high,  and  jewels, 

A  happy  life  be  mine." 

"  What  would  you  ask  for,  sister, 

Should  you  the  fairy  see, 
And  it  gave  the  same  privilege 

To  you  as  well  as  me  ?  " 
"  I  should  ask  for  beauty,  Gracie, 

Such  as  was  never  seen, 
More  lovely  than  a  butterfly, 

More  graceful  than  a  queen." 

"And  now,"  said  little  Ida, 

The  youngest  of  the  three, 
"  I'll  tell  what  I  would  ask  for, 

Should  I  the  fairy  see  — 
I  would  ask  for  faith  and  love 

To  believe  on  Jesus'  name  ; 
I  ask  not  treasures  of  this  world, 

Beyond  them  is  my  aim." 


THE    THREE    WISHES. 


"  My  children,"  said  the  mother, 

"  Your  sister  asks  the  best. 
No  wealth  or  beauty  can  e'er  equal 

Love,  hope,  and  heavenly  rest ; 
The  wish  of  Ida  is  to  be 

Safe  in  the  peaceful  fold, 
And  this  is  better,  better  far, 

Than  beauty,  silver,  or  gold." 


SOME    SAY. 


Some  say  that  love  is  like  the  rain, 

Which  falls  until  the  leaves 
And  every  object  round  about 

A  beauty  new  receives  ; 
That,  if  the  rain  is  absent  long, 

The  leaves  will  droop  to  die, 
For  nothing  but  another  shower 

Their  thirst  can  satisfy. 

Some  say  that  love  is  like  a  vine, 

Which  lives,  and  grows,  and  clings, 
And  reaches  out  its  tendrils  fine, 

Embracing  many  things. 
Then  if  perchance  an  object  falls, 

About  which  it  has  twined, 
It  still  will  seek,  and  reach,  and  long 

Another  one  to  find. 

Some  say  that  love  is  like  the  sun, 

Which  bursts  the  clouds  apart, 
And  finds  the  morning-glory  closed, 

But  pierces  to  her  heart, 
Until  her  face  is  all  aglow 

With  sunshine  warm  and  bright; 
When  in  an  ecstasy  complete 

She  hides  her  face  in  fright. 


SOME    SAY. 


If  any  one  should  come  to  me, 

'To  ask  me  which  was  right — 
Whether  true  love  was  like  the  rain, 

Or  vine,  or  sunshine  bright — 
I'm  sure  I  would  not  answer, 

For  my  heart  withholds  its  story, 
But,  somehow,  I  would  rather  be 

Loved  like  the  morning-glory. 


A    FEW    WILD    FLOWERS. 


A  Pew  Wild  Flowery 

Once  some  tiny  rustic  flowers 

Grew  in  humid,  verdant  soil, 
Envied  not  blooms  cultivated, 

Knew  not  weariness  or  toil. 

Held  the  sunshine  in  the  daytime, 

In  the  evening  held  the  dew ; 
Happily  they  gaily  danced  to 

Every  tune  the  breezes  blew. 

As  I  spied  them  how  they  trembled, 
Quickly  bending  low  they  lay  ; 

Then  with  happy  tears  their  faces 
Sparkled  as  1  went  away. 

When  I  turned  and  gently  plucked  them, 

How  their  faces  pallid  grew  ! 
To  a  sick  friend  then  I  gave  them, 

Much  she  praised  their  dainty  hue, 

Praised  their  fragrance  and  their  sweetness, 
And  their  beauty,  rustic,  rare  ; 

Then  I  placed  them  by  her  bedside, 
Watered,  tended  them  with  care. 


A    FEW    WILD    FLOWERS. 


Soon  I  took  them,  damp  and  dripping, 
From  their  place  beside  her  bed, 

And  arranged  and  placed  them  gently 
In  the  fingers  of  the  dead. 

As  1  bended  o'er  my  dear  friend, 
Pressed  a  kiss  on  her  cold  cheek, 

And  beheld  the  flowers  held  closely, 
In  my  mind  thus  did  I  speak  : 

"  Sweet  love's  tokens,  gifts  from  heaven, 
You  have  soothed  and  eased  her  pain, 

You  have  cheered  a  heart  one  moment, 
So  you  have  not  lived  in  vain, 

With  her  you  have  crossed  death's  portal, 
And  in  heaven  you'll  bloom  again." 


SIN. 


5in. 

A  rose  there  grew,  all  white  and  sweet, 
Its  spotless  beauty  was  complete. 

An  insect  came,  and  in  a  day 
Took  perfect  purity  away. 


WHO    DOUBTS? 


(1)1)0 


Who  doubts  the  world  exists  ? 

Who  doubts  that  it  revolves  ? 
Who  doubts  the  shining  of  the  sun  ? 

But  who  the  mystery  solves  ? 

Who  doubts  the  stars  and  planets  are  ? 

Who  doubts  that  breezes  sigh  ? 
Who  says  there  are  no  clouds  or  storms  ? 

Who  never  saw  the  sky  ? 

Who  says  that  he  has  walked  on  earth 

And  never  touched  the  sod  ? 
Who  lives,  and  breathes,  and  feels,  and  yet 

Can  disbelieve  his  God  ? 


LIFE'S    MORNING    AND    EVENING. 


'5  Fleming  and  Evening. 

Morning. 

Sparkling  faces,  merry  hearts, 

Gaily  ringing  voices, 
Singing  songs  of  sweetness  till 

Many  a  soul  rejoices. 

Evening. 

Placid  faces,  happy  hearts, 

Voices  low  and  tender, 
Breathing  words  which  jewels  are 

In  a  crown  of  splendor. 


A    LESSON    FROM    THE    FLOWERS. 


A  Lesson  from  tl>e  Flowers. 

I  was  sitting  in  a  forest, 

Underneath  a  spreading  tree. 
Golden  sunbeams,  bright  and  cheery, 

Freely  gave  their  life  to  me. 
Breezes  gently  fanned  my  forehead^ 

All  around  was  sweet  and  gay, 
Yet  in  spite  of  Nature's  brightness, 

I  was  sad  this  happy  day. 

Thoughtful  was  I ;  o'er  me  feelings 

Rushed  with  misery  intense. 
What  is  life?     Ah,  all  around  me 

Is  but  mystery  all  dense. 
With  a  veil  is  heaven  hidden, 

Earth  is  dreary  and  forlorn  ; 
Better  had  no  life  been  given, 

Better  had  I  ne'er  been  born. 

By  my  side  some  tiny  flowers, 

Violets  all  pure  and  white, 
Filled  the  air  with  sweetest  perfume, 

Welcome  were  they  to  my  sight. 
"  Sweetest  flowers  which  bloom,"  I  whispered, 

"  Fairy  forms  with  angel's  breath, 
Are  you  glad  that  you  are  living? 

Are  you  not  afraid  of  death?" 


A    LESSON    FROM    THE    FLOWERS. 


Suddenly  the  gentlest  music, 

As  of  ringing  silver  bells, 
Filled  the  air  with  sweetest  accents, 

Echoed  through  those  woody  dells. 
"We  have  listened,"  said  the  violets, 

"  To  your  sad,  complaining  voice, 
While  around,  the  sun,  the  breezes, 

And  the  birds  all  cried,  '  Rejoice  !  ' 


"  You  have  praised  our  breath  of  sweetness, 

You  are  glad  that  we  abound, 
Yet  our  fragrance  ne'er  had  cheered  you 

Had  we  stayed  beneath  the  ground  ; 
Had  we  hidden  from  God's  sunlight 

We  would  ne'er  had  life  to  give. 
Darkness  bound  us,  light  has  found  us, 

'Tis  for  others  that  we  live. 


"  Death  we  fear  not,  Christ  has  risen, 

Even  so  do  we  arise. 
Every  day  our  life  goes  floating 

Onward,  upward,  to  the  skies. 
Listen  to  us  while  the  secret 

Of  the  flowers  we  now  unroll ; 
We,  like  you,  are  made  immortal, 

And  our  fragrance  is  our  soul." 


A    LESSON    FROM    THE    FLOWERS. 


Suddenly  the  sun  shone  brightly, 

Suddenly  the  world  seemed  fair, 
Bird-songs  seemed  like  angel's  music, 

Beauties  floated  in  the  air. 
"Angel  messengers,"  I  whispered, 

"You  have  taught  me  how  to  live  ; 
Life  is  given  me  for  others, 

Life  is  given  me  to  give." 


62      THE  MOUNTAIN   BREEZE  AND  THE  OCEAN   BREEZE. 


TI)e  Aoantain  §ree^e  and  tl>e 
Ocean   P>ree£e. 

"  Happy  am  I,"  said  the  breeze  of  the  mountain, 

As  it  saluted  the  breeze  of  the  sea, 
"  Happy  am  I,  o'er  the  mountains  I  whisper, 

Whistling  as  gay  as  the  birds  in  my  glee. 

"  Noble  old  mountains,  like  arms  they  encircle, 
Sweet  benedictions  they  seem  to  let  fall, 

Showering  their  blessings  on  those  in  the  valley, 
Guarding,  protecting,  and  caring  for  all. 

"  Glorious  old  mountains,  they  tell  of  God's  glory. 

Small  seems  the  earth  ;  O,  my  life  is  so  free  ! 
Happy  am  I,  the  breeze  of  the  mountain. 

Are  you  so  happy,  sweet  breeze  of  the  sea?" 

Sweetly  this  answer  the  ocean  breeze  whispered: 

"  Happy,  O  perfectly  happy,  am  I. 
Though  no  grand  mountains  I  have  to  inspire  me, 

Above  and  around  me  I  see  the  blue  sky. 

"  Earth  seems  so  great  to  me,  breeze  of  the  moun 
tain, 

Stretching  far  out,  out  away  from  my  sight ; 
Then  the  old  ocean  forever  inspires  me. 

Happy  am  I ;  O,  my  life  is  so  bright. 


THE  MOUNTAIN   BREEZE  AND  THE  OCEAN   BREEZE.      63 


"  Heaven,  like  a  tent,  seems  to  guard  and  protect 
me, 

Ocean  around  me  and  heaven  above, 
Happy  am  I,  in  a  tent  of  God's  mercy, 

Guarded  by  heaven  and  filled  with  his  love." 

Sweetly  then  whispered  the  breezes  together, 
"  Happiness  fills  us  wherever  we  live  ; 

God  gives  his  life  to  us,  freely,  abundantly, 
This  life  we  love  to  his  creatures  to  give. 

"  Mountains  and  oceans  all  tell  of  his  greatness, 
Heaven  and  earth  join  his  love  to  proclaim. 

Praise  him,  ye  nations !  Ye  angels,  adore  him  ! 
Infinite  greatness  and  love  is  his  name." 


64  TIRESOME    SOMETIMES. 


Tiresome 


Nature,  towering,  proudly  asked, 
"  Do  you  not  admire  me?  " 

"  Hush,"  I  cried,  "you  know  I  do, 
But  just  now  you  tire  me." 


THE    MARCH    WIND.  65 


Tl)e  AVard)  Wind. 

Hear  the  March  wind,  like  a  monarch  it  passes ; 

See  the  great  trees  in  humility  bend. 
Shrill  is  the  voice  ;  of  sorrow  or  gladness, 

What  is  the  message  it  brings  you,  my  friend? 

Is  the  March  wind  to  you  rough  or  forbidding? 

Is  it  a  voice  of  hate  or  of  love? 
Does  it  lament  with  you  over  your  sorrow? 

Or  does  it  call  you  to  mansions  above? 

Does  it  e'er  seem  that  the  wind  is  the  wailing 
Of  the  lost  spirits  departed  from  earth? 

Or  does  it  seem  as  the  cruel  rejoicing 

Of  the  glad  demons  all  screaming  with  mirth? 

Sometimes  it   seems,    when   the  fierce   winds   are 
calling, 

That  'tis  the  voice  of  the  poor  soulless  trees, 
Calling  to  heaven  for  a  soul  to  enliven, 

And  make  them  forever  as  free  as  the  breeze. 

Sometimes  the  wind  seems  the  voice  of  ambition, 

Calling  me  up  to  my  visions  of  joy, 
Bidding  me  climb  to -my  brilliant  air-castles, 

Where  no  ill  winds  can  ever  annoy. 


66  THE    MARCH    WIND. 


Sometimes  it  seems  like  a  fierce  rushing  army, 
Sometimes  it  seems  like  the  spirit  of  God  ; 

Sometimes  it  seems  like  the  archangel's  trumpet 
Calling  the  flowers  to  rise  from  the  sod. 

Many  and  sweet  are  the  fierce  March  wind  lessons  ; 

Each  soul  translates  in  a  different  voice ; 
Nature  alone  has  the  key-note  of  meaning. 

Free  as  the  wind  let  us  rise  and  rejoice. 


THE    ADVENT    OF    MUSIC.  67 


TI)e  Advent  of 


Come  with  me  to  Eden's  garden, 

To  the  time  when  Adam  first 
Tasted  the  forbidden  apple, 

Making  all  the  world  accursed. 
Suddenly  a  darkness  gath'ring 

Shades  the  beauteous  garden  now. 
And  a  voice  is  sternly  asking, 

"Adam,  Adam,  where  art  thou? 

"  Not  as  usual  dost  thou  hasten 

My  approval  to  obtain  ; 
Hast  thou  gratified  the  passion 

That  I  warned  thee  to  restrain? 
Hast  thou  tasted  of  the  apple? 

Didst  thou  not  my  word  believe? 
Hither,  Adam,  from  thy  arbor, 

And  thy  sentence  now  receive." 

Then  together  from  their  covert, 

Eve  and  Adam,  hand  in  hand, 
Guiltily  approach  their  Maker, 

And  before  him  silent  stand. 
Waiting  to  receive  his  judgment, 

God  their  inmost  thoughts  can  read. 
Sternly,  pityingly  spake  he  : 

"  Guilty  art  thou,  man,  indeed. 


THE    ADVENT    OF    MUSIC. 


"Guilty  art  thou,  first  of  women, 

Guilty,  there  is  no  reprieve  ; 
For  thy  crime  all  earth  henceforward 

Sin  and  death  must  e'er  receive. 
All  divine  and  heavenly  beauties 

Which  I  placed  on  earth  for  thee 
Must  to  heaven  be  now  transported, 

Never  more  on  earth  to  be." 


"  Nay,  not  so,"  cried  guilty  Adam. 

"  Let  one  gift  from  thee  be  given, 
To  make  earth  divine,  to  cause  men 

To  love  beauty,  to  love  heaven. 
Grant  my  prayer,  O  just  Creator, 

But  one  gift  from  heaven  above, 
But  one  gift  from  God  to  mortals, 

As  a  proof  of  heavenly  love." 


Sweetly  spoke  our  great  Creator, 

"  Adam,  I  will  grant  thy  prayer  ; 
I  from  heaven  will  send  a  token 

Which  will  lighten  all  your  care  ; 
Which  will  fill  all  heaven  with  sweetness, 

When  all  things  from  earth  have  passed  ; 
Which  will  purify  your  being ; 

Which  eternally  shall  last." 


THE    ADVENT    OF    MUSIC.  60 


As  he  spoke,  a  gentle  murmur 

Sweetly  trembled  everywhere. 
Divine  music  filled  all  nature, 

Filled  the  heavens,  filled  the  air ; 
Thrilled  the  soul  of  Eve,  of  Adam, 

Filled  the  heart  of  every  bird  ; 
Filled  the  brooks  and  filled  the  breezes. 

Music  everywhere  was  heard. 

Music  then  was  God's  great  token, 

Music  was  the  gift  he  gave, 
Telling  of  his  love  and  pardon, 

Telling  of  his  power  to  save. 
Music  share  we  with  the  angels, 

And,  when  all  from  earth  is  passed, 
Music  only  of  earth's  blessings 

Through  eternity  shall  last. 


SETTING    SUN. 


vSettincr 


The  sun  departed,  blushing 
At  the  crimes  he  had  unfurled. 

I  should  think,  as  old  as  Sun  is, 
He  would  understand  the  world. 


GROWTH     IN    HEAVEN. 


Cirovtl)  in  Heaven. 

There  came  a  soul  to  earth, 
A  mother's  heart  was  cheered  ; 

Earth  seemed  to  gain  new  beauty, 
And  brighter  life  appeared. 

The  soul  was  called  to  heaven, 

Earth  tried  its  flight  to  stay  ; 
God  whispered  gently,  firmly, 

"  I  give,  I  take  away." 

A  mother's  heart  was  broken, 

Earth  lost  for  her  its  light. 
Her  child,  her  life,  her  darling, 

Was  taken  from  her  sight. 

"  Come  back,  my  child,"  she  whispered, 
It  seemed  the  child-soul  heard, 

The  mother  breathless  listened, 
And  caught  a  whispered  word — 

"  1  dwell  in  fairer  places, 

And  heavenly  sights  I  see. 
I  cannot  come  to  you  again, 

But  you  may  come  to  me." 

That  loving,  distant  echo, 
Those  words  so  sweet  and  mild, 

Fell  softly  on  the  mother's  heart, 
And  she  was  reconciled. 


GROWTH    IN     HEAVEN. 


A  moment's  time  was  over, 

And  life  through  death  was  given. 

The  mother  left  the  friends  of  earth 
To  meet  the  child  in  heaven. 

"  Where  is  my  child?  "  she  questioned. 

A  form  of  beauty  mild 
Approached  her,  then  these  words  of  love, 

"  Mother,  I  am  your  child." 

The  mother  gazed  in  wonder, 
Heard  she  her  own  child  speak? 

Was  this  youth,  noble,  manly, 
Her  babe  so  helpless,  weak? 

The  mother  heart  then  understood 
That  God's  way  was  the  best. 

She  found  her  child  as  sweet  and  pure 
As  when  he  left  her  breast. 

Her  child  had  dwelt  in  innocence, 
Earth's  paths  had  never  trod  ; 

Had  thriven  in  light  celestial, 
E'en  in  the  light  of  God. 

Thrice  happy  child  who  early  leaves, 
With  wings  unsoiled  and  white, 

Earth's  ways  of  sorrow,  grief,  and  sin, 
To  dwell  in  heavenly  light. 


SATAN.  73 


Satan  is  a  spider, 

A  crawling,  base  deceiver, 
Whose  web  cannot  be  copied 

By  any  other  weaver ; 
And  woe  be  to  the  little  fly 

Who  by  him  is  allured, 
For  a  fly  once  spider-bitten 

Is  never  wholly  cured. 


WHY? 


The  birds  sing  when  they  greet  me, 

The  flowers  lowly  bow, 
The  sun  smiles  upon  me, 

The  breezes  fan  my  brow. 

The  butterfly  comes  dancing, 

And  from  the  forest  still 
I  hear  a  gentle  murmur, 

The  singing  of  the  rill. 

When  all  these  pretty  people 
Greet  me,  and  love  me  so, 

Why  is  my  heart  so  sorrowful? 
Does  anybody  know? 


JUST    A    CABIN. 


Ja<$t  a  Cabin. 

Just  a  humble  little  cottage, 

Left  to  ruin  and  decay  ; 
Just  a  lonely  hut,  forsaken, 

Witness  of  a  better  day. 
Shattered,  tumbled-down,  and  homely, 

Just  a  wreck  about  to  fall, 
Stands  serenely  by  the  roadside, 

Just  a  ruin,  that  is  all. 

It  may  be  some  one  is  dreaming 

Of  that  wretched  little  place  ; 
It  may  be  a  tear  of  sorrow 

Stains  a  sad  and  thoughtful  face. 
It  may  be  in  some  strange  country, 

Orphaned,  friendless,  and  alone, 
Some  one  dreams  of  that  poor  cottage, 

Whispering  softly,  "  Home,  sweet  home." 

Ah,  that  cabin  stands  before  us, 

Yet  we  know  not  what  it  means. 
We  can  see  the  stage  forsaken, 

Past,  unknown  to  us  the  scenes. 
Then  we'll  pass  the  cabin  gently, 

As  it  stands  before  us  lone, 
Years  ago  this  humble  dwelling 

Bore  the  honored  name  of  "  home." 


SWEET    HOME. 


>Sweet  Home. 

O  that  I  might  write  a  poem 
Of  a  sweet  and  rural  valley, 
Where  there  stands  a  rustic  cabin 

Which  was  once  sweet  home  to  me. 
There  the  flowers  are  ever  blooming, 
There  the  evergreen  entwineth, 
There  the  blithesome  birds  are  singing, 

There  I  lived  content  and  free. 

Let  me  paint  for  you  a  picture 
Of  my  Eden  in  this  valley. 
Just  a  humble,  rude  log  cabin 

Covered  o'er  with  flowers  and  vines. 
On  the  right  a  clump  of  thickets 
Where  the  frisky  squirrels  sported  ; 
On  the  left  a  shady  arbor, 

Formed  by  massive,  towering  pines. 

Near  the  house,  quite  close  beside  it, 
Was  a  well,  with  curb  moss-covered  ; 
Near  it  was  the  oaken  bucket, 

Leaning  on  it  was  the  sweep  ; 
Standing  near  the  well,  o'erbending, 
Was  a  maple  tree  gigantic, 
Whose  immense,  outspreading  branches 

Seemed  majestic  watch  to  keep. 


SWEET    HOME. 


Just  behind  the  cot  a  river 
Danced  and  rippled  in  the  sunlight, 
Where  the  fishes,  unmolested, 

Swam  in  happiness  content. 
Near  the  bank  a  sturdy  shade-tree 
Stood.     Its  limbs  a  seat  afforded, 
There  in  peace  with  book  or  pencil 

Many  quiet  hours  I've  spent. 


Come  with  me  across  the  river, 
See  the  green  and  verdant  meadow  ; 
Here  the  birds  and  bees  delighted, 

Here  the  sweet  wild  flowers  grew. 
Here  the  violets,  fair  beauties, 
Shed  their  fragrance  on  the  air, 
Here  the  daisies  and  the  lilies 

Sported  while  the  breezes  blew. 


Linger  with  me  here  till  sunset 
Tints  the  western  sky  with  beauty. 
O  behold  the  gold  and  crimson! 

Is  it  not  a  glorious  sight  ? 
Seems  as  if  ten  thousand  ribbons 
Waved  in  freedom  there  to  cheer  us, 
And  there  reaches  to  the  river, 

As  it  seems,  a  path  of  light. 


78  SWEET    HOME. 


O  what  beauty  !     O  what  glory  ! 
O  that  I  might  write  a  poem 
Which  would  all  the  hidden  meaning 

Of  this  scene  to  you  reveal. 
But  they  tell  me  a  true  poem 
Is  a  thought,  and  not  a  metre, 
So  perchance  you  can  imagine 

What  I  must  perforce  conceal. 

Noisy  city,  cease  your  riot. 

Let  me  wander  back  in  thoughtland, 

Let  me  through  the  veil  of  dreaming 

See  that  cabin  by  the  lea. 
In  your  realm,  Imagination, 
Let  me  be  again  an  inmate 
Of  that  rude  and  rough  log  cabin 

Which  was  once  "  sweet  home  "  to  me. 


WEAVERS. 


In  the  shadow,  calmly  weaving, 

Sat  a  woman  old  and  gray. 
In  her  web  a  square  was  fashioned, 

True,  her  pattern  was  not  gay, 
Yet  the  scenes  her  spirit  cherished 

In  her  web  were  woven  there; 
No  one  knew  except  the  weaver 

Why  her  pattern  was  a  square. 

In  the  sunshine,  slowly  weaving 

In  a  web  of  beauty  rare, 
Weaving  sunbeams  in  a  circle, 

Sat  a  woman  young  and  fair. 
Faces  greeted  her,  she  wove  them 

Firmly  in  her  web  ;  it  crowned 
Her  at  last,  and  many  wondered 

How  she  wove  her  web  so  round. 

In  the  gaslight,  laughing,  weaving, 

Lovers  watching  her  the  while, 
Was  a  lady,  gay  and  merry. 

Like  a  diamond  was  the  style 
Of  her  web  ;  it  brightly  glistened, 

For  its  threads  were  all  of  gold. 
Yet  the  pictures  interwoven 

Disappeared  at  every  fold. 


WEAVERS. 


In  the  gloaming,  eager,  weaving, 

Sadly  smiling  as  she  wove, 
Sat  a  woman  old  and  saintly. 

In  her  web  was  sweetest  love, 
Woven  in  a  starlike  pattern, 

Which  like  lances  gleams  afar; 
No  one  knew  except  the  weaver 

Why  her  pattern  was  a  star. 


AIR-CASTLES. 


Are  you  building  air-castles 
For  your  recreation? 

An  air-castle  is  good 
If  it  has  a  foundation. 

But  lay  the  foundation 
Down  solid  and  square  ; 

Then  build  all  the  castles 
You  want  to  of  air. 


82  GOLDENROD. 


(ioldenrod. 

All  the  roses,  daisies,  lilies, 
Shivered  as  they  saw  her  face  ; 

Clasped  the  hands  of  chilling  Autumn, 
Bended  low  and  left  the  place. 

But  the  stately,  golden  princess 
Stood  unmoved  before  the  sight ; 

Heeded  not  the  wind's  rough  greeting, 
Held  her  shining  head  upright. 

I  was  passing  by  the  wayside, 

And  I  saw  her  standing  there. 
I  could  but  admire  her  courage, 

Though  she  was  not  sweet  nor  fair. 

And  I  stopped  and  asked  her,  saying, 
"  Tell  me,  golden  princess,  pray, 

Why  you,  hard  and  unrelenting, 
Watch  the  flowers  pass  away. 

"  Why  you  come  as  death's  drear  symbol, 
When  of  summer  we're  bereaved. 

Tell  me,  if  you  can  remember, 
Whence  your  name  you  have  received." 


GOLDENROD.  83 


Proudly  rose  the  fearless  princess, 
Rose  with  royal,  wondrous  grace  ; 

And  she  looked  with  gaze  unflinching 
Boldy,  sadly,  in  my  face. 

Then  she  whispered,  "Ah,  you  wrong  me, 

No  one  sorrows  more  than  I 
At  the  death  of  beauteous  summer, 

For  the  flowers  as  they  die. 

"  Do  I  seem  to  you  so  hardened? 

Am  I  cruel?     Am  I  bold? 
Yet  1  have  undaunted  courage, 

And  I  have  a  heart  of  gold. 

"  Though  I  am  of  death  a  symbol, 

Let  me  tell  you,  ere  we  part, 
That  I  have  the  summer's  sunshine 

Folded  warmly  to  my  heart. 

"And  1  come  to  bring  this  lesson 

From  the  dusty  wayside  sod, 
Though  it  seems  so  sad  and  dreary, 

Death  is  but  a  golden  rod!" 


LADY    CHESBY. 


In  her  chamber  sat  the  lady, 

All  unbound  her  raven  tresses, 

Which  o'er  white  and  graceful  shoulders 

In  their  silken  beauty  fell ; 
One  could  see  she  was  not  happy, 
And  that  sadness  rested  o'er  her, 
Yet  but  few  e'er  heard  her  story, 

Which  I  am  about  to  tell. 

Yet  it  is  the  same  old  story, 
That  so  oft  has  been  repeated. 
In  her  youth  a  poor  young  lover 

Offered  her  his  heart  and  hand  ; 
And  another,  now  her  husband, 
Too  had  sought  her  final  answer  ; 
And  she  married  him  for  riches, 

At  her  father's  stern  command. 

But  to-night,  alone  and  pensive, 

Lady  Chesby's  thoughts  turned  backward. 

Once  again  her  heart  grew  happy, 

For  she  was  again  a  child, 
Walking  through  the  scented  wildwood 
In  the  twilight  dim  and  holy ; 
And  she  seemed  to  see  young  Harold, 

Hear  his  voice  so  low  and  mild, 


LADY    CHESBY.  85 


As  he  said,  "  Though  they  may  part  us, 
I  still  love  you,  Nellie  darling; 
You  are  in  my  heart  forever, 

Will  be,  till  my  latest  breath." 
And  she  seemed  to  say  in  answer, 
"  Harold,  though  I  wed  another, 
I  shall  always  love  you  truly, 

For  my  love  is  strong  as  death." 


Then  she  heard  the  cry  of  anguish, 
Of  the  last  time  that  she  met  him  : 
"  Good-by,  good-by,  little  Nellie, 

With  you  now  for  aye  I  part ; 
But  the  locket  that  you  gave  me, 
With  the  lock  of  hair  within  it, 
Rests  forever,  aye  forever, 

Near  the  beating  of  my  heart." 


Interrupted  was  her  musing 

As  her  maid  appeared  before  her — 

"  O  my  lady,  may  I  tell  you 

Something  which  occurred  to-day?" 
Lady  Chesby  smiled  approval, 
"Ah  yes,  Dorcas,  you  may  tell  me  ; 
I  will  listen  with  all  interest 

To  whate'er  you  have  to  say." 


86  LADY    CHESBY. 


"  In  the  hospital,  my  lady, 
Where  my  sister  Mary  labors, 
A  poor  stranger  there  was  carried, 

And  to-day  it  was  he  died. 
But  before  his  final  summons, 
Ere  his  life  from  him  was  taken, 
He  with  low  and  feeble  accents 

Called  my  sister  to  his  side. 


"And  he  told  her  a  strange  story, 
How  when  he  was  gay  and  youthful 
He  had  loved  a  fair,  sweet  maiden, 

Who  had  given  him  her  heart. 
And  he  had  a  tiny  locket, 
With  a  lock  of  hair  within  it ; 
Which  he  said  'belonged  to  Nellie.' 

It  was  resting  near  his  heart. 


"And  he  said  that  from  the  hour 
He  had  parted  from  the  maiden 
He  had  always  worn  that  locket 

Near  his  heart,  upon  his  breast ; 
And  he  told  her,  although  Nellie 
Had  been  forced  to  wed  another, 
Still  he  treasured  her  assurance 

She  would  always  love  him  best. 


LADY    CHESBY. 


"  That  is  all,  dear  Lady  Chesby ; 

But  why  do  you  look  so  pallid  ? 

Are  you  cold  ?     Why  do  you  shiver  ? 

Lady — O,  what  have  I  done  !  " 
"  No,  no,  Dorcas;  nothing  ails  me, 
Only  I  am  sad  and  lonely, 
And  your  story  is  peculiar. 

Now  I  wish  to  be  alone." 


When  alone  she  rose,  and  quickly 
Drew  a  shawl  around  her  shoulders, 
And  a  cloak  of  warmth  and  thickness 

Folded  she  about  her  form  ; 
Placed  a  veil  upon  her  features, 
That  no  one  might  recognize  her ; 
Then  she  fearlessly  and  boldly, 

Resolutely,  faced  the  storm. 


Soon  she  knocked  and'was  admitted 
To  the  chamber  of  the  stranger 
Who  had  died  that  winter  morning, 

Now  was  lying  cold  and  dead. 
Lady  Chesby  at  once  knew  him 
As  her  true  rejected  lover  ; 
And  her  tears  they  fell  in  torrents, 

As  she  knelt  beside  the  bed. 


$8  LADY    CHESBY. 


Deftly  she  obtained  the  locket 
Which  was  resting  on  his  bosom  ; 
Then  again  with  heart  of  anguish 

Homeward  she  her  steps  did  turn. 
Ah,  the  snowflakes  seemed  to  blind  her, 
And  the  wind  to  blow  more  fiercely, 
While  around  her,  bright  and  mocking, 

Did  the  flaring  gaslights  burn. 


No  one  knew  who  was  the  lady 
Who  had  called  that  winter  evening, 
Who,  disguised,  had  sought  admittance 

To  the  chamber  of  the  dead  ; 
Had  obtained  the  golden  locket 
That  was  resting  on  his  bosom, 
And  had  wept  with  better  anguish 

As  she  knelt  beside  the  bed. 


No  one  knew  that  Lady  Chesby, 
As  she  smiled  in  social  circles, 
Had  a  gnawing,  bitter  sorrow, 

That  she  could  not  sleep  or  rest ; 
That  her  heart  was  bleeding,  broken, 
That  her  heart's  love  all  was  buried, 
That  a  tiny  golden  locket 

Rested  gently  on  her  breast. 


LADY    CHESBY. 


People  called  her  stately,  haughty, 
As  she  absently  moved  round  them  ; 
Some  said  she  had  no  emotion, 

That  her  heart  was  still  and  cold. 
No  one  knew  the  life  of  Nellie, 
No  one  understood  the  lady, 
Not  until  her  dying  moments 

Was  her  bitter  secret  told. 


FREAKY. 


Is  Nature  always  smiling  ? 

No,  she's  a  freaky  child  ; 
She  will  not  beam  upon  you 

Until  you  first  have  smiled. 


EASTER    LILY. 


Easter 


Years  and  years  ago,  the  flowers 

Thought  to  choose  themselves  a  queen- 
One  of  sweet  and  stately  bearing, 

One  of  gentle,  modest  mien. 
All  the  flowers  called  together 

To  the  Saviour's  garden  came, 
Where  by  his  own  gentle  bidding 

Every  bloom  received  its  name. 

Who  should  be  the  queen  ?     The  flowers 

Found  it  hard  this  to  declare  ; 
Some  were  beautiful  but  haughty, 

Some  were  sweet  but  were  not  fair, 
Some  too  gentle,  some  too  slender, 

Some  too  gaily  colored  were. 
But  at  last  one  cried,  "  The  lily," 

All  the  flowers  turned  to  her. 

Then  the  lily  rose  before  them, 

Tall  and  stately,  sweet  and  good, 
Purple,  fair,  the  purest  flower 

In  the  garden,  lily  stood. 
For  her  manner,  sweet  and  royal, 

For  her  beauty,  grand  and  rare, 
She1  was  chosen  for  their  queen,  and 

Called  "  the  fairest  of  the  fair." 


EASTER    LILY. 


Then  the  lily  raised  her  petals, 

Gone  her  quiet,  modest  mien  ; 
And  with  pride  her  heart  was  swollen, 

Had  she  not  been  chosen  queen  ? 
Then  in  accents  low  and  earnest 

To  herself  the  lily  said, 
"To  no  one  in  earth  or  heaven 

Will  1  ever  bow  my  head  !  " 


In  the  holy  hour  of  twilight 

Jesus  to  the  garden  went. 
As  the  flowers  felt  his  presence 

Every  blossom  lowly  bent, 
Held  its  breath  and  listened  eager 

For  his  voice  so  low  and  sweet. 
And  the  grass  was  proud  and  happy 

To  be  carpet  for  his  feet. 


Softly  passed  he  by  the  flowers, 

Speaking  gently  to  each  one. 
At  his  touch  with  bliss  they  trembled, 

Gleamed  his  beauty  like  the  sun. 
It  is  said  one  little  flower 

In  her  joy  forgot  her  name. 
Every  flower-head  was  bended 

As  the  Saviour  near  it  came. 


EASTER    LILY. 


All  but  one,  the  queen,  the  lily- 
She,  the  pride  of  all  the  flowers, 

Haughtily,  with  head  uplifted, 
By  the  Saviour's  side  she  towers. 

Gazing  proudly  at  his  beauty, 
_  To  herself  again  she  said, 

"  To  no  one  in  earth  or  heaven 
Will  I  ever  bow  my  head." 


Jesus  knew  her  thoughts  and  loved  her, 

Jesus  saw  her  heart  of  pride. 
Softly  came  he  through  the  garden, 

Sadly  stood  he  by  her  side, 
Gazed  upon  her,  loving,  pleading, 

While  the  other  flowers  said, 
"  Lily,  queen,  it  is  the  Saviour ; 

Lily,  lily,  bend  your  head." 


When  she  knew  it  was  the  Saviour 

Lily's  cheeks  were  blanched  with  shame, 
As  the  Saviour  gazed  upon  her 

Purest  white  her  heart  became. 
While  her  soul,  filled  with  repentance, 

Saw  the  Saviour's  tears  of  blood, 
As  with  head  now  lowly  bowing 

At  his  blessed  feet  she  stood. 


DISCONTENT. 


Discontent. 

I  sat  alone  within  my  room. 

The  moonlight  smiled  upon  the  gloom  ; 

When  entered  Discontent,  unhid, 
And  to  my  side  by  stealth  he  slid. 

I  shrank  away,  and  called  to  Pride, 
Then  in  my  trembling  weakness  cried: 

"  My  home  is  sweet,  my  heart  is  free  ; 
Fiend,  why  dost  thou  trouble  me  ?  " 

With  scorn  he  glanced  my  treasure  o'er, 
And  pointed  at  an  open  door. 

"Go,  go!  "  I  cried;  but  he,  instead 
Of  going  at  my  mandate,  said  : 

"An  ever  present  foe  am  I, 
I'll  follow  you  until  you  die." 

"  I  will  defy  you,"  I  replied, 
As  joyfully  I  followed  Pride. 


DISCONTENT. 


She  led  me  by  a  gleaming  way 
O'er  fields  of  light  for  many  a  day. 

My  travels  o'er,  I  banished  Fear, 
I  sat  alone,  1  called  for  Cheer. 

Then  o'er  my  shoulder,  mocking,  leaned 
A  well  known,  hated,  dreaded  fiend. 

I  shrank  away  ;  he  rudely  cried, 
"Away  with  Cheer  and  Fear  and  Pride  ! 

"An  ever  present  foe  am  I, 
I'll  follow  you  until  you  die." 


THE    OCEAN'S     BRIDE. 


Tl)e  Ocean's  gride. 

A  broad  expanse  of  clear,  dark  space, 

A  star-decked  vault  above  ; 
An  atmosphere  of  silent  power, 

Which  thrilled  my  heart  with  love. 

A  splendid  moon,  which  seemed  to  rise 

From  heart  of  Ocean  old, 
And  to  my  human  eyes  appeared 

A  ball  of  shining  gold. 

Higher  and  higher  did  it  rise 

Until  all  gleaming,  bright, 
It  seemed  to  make  'twixt  earth  and  heaven 

A  shining  path  of  light. 

O  Luna,  bride  of  Ocean  old, 

You  light  his  heart  of  blue  ; 
Though  you  deign  not  to  notice  us, 

Yet  we  adore  you. 

We  gaze  upon  your  loveliness, 
And  know  that  you  were  given 

To  mark  for  us  a  path  of  light 
And  guide  our  thoughts  to  heaven. 


AT    THE    SEASIDE. 


At  the  Seaside. 

Let  artists  rave,  let  poets  sing 

The  cottage  by  the  sea. 
I  love  the  mountains.     1  would  sing 

A  cottage  by  the  lea  ; 
Where  brooklets  bubble,  flowers  bloom, 

And  mountains  towering  stand. 
Serenely  there  King  Silence  reigns, 

And  all  is  sweet  and  grand. 

I've  left  you,  dear  old  mountains, 

I'm  stationed  by  the  sea  ; 
And  yet,  though  absent,  you  are  dear, 

E'en  now  the  theme  for  me. 
I've  learned  anew  this  lesson  true, 

That,  wheresoe'er  I  roam, 
No  spot  on  earth  is  half  so  dear 

To  me  as  "  home,  sweet  home.1" 


VACILLATING. 


Vacillating. 

( Wbat  I  said  yesterday:) 

How  fair  the  world  appears ! 

How  bright  the  sunbeams  shine  ! 
How  full  of  joy  am  I ! 

How  glad  a  life  is  mine  ! 

( What  I  say  to-day:) 

How  gloomy  is  the  world  ! 

The  day  with  storms  is  fed  ! 
How  sorrowful  am  1 ! 

I  wish  that  I  were  dead  ! 


THE   SABBATH   IN   THE  MOUNTAINS. 


Tf)e  5abbatf)  in  tl>e 


How  fair,  how  pure,  how  holy 

The  sunlight  doth  appear  ; 
How  faintly  yet  how  clearly 

The  song  of  bird  I  hear. 
What  means  this  holy  stillness  ? 

The  breeze  then  seemed  to  say, 
In  whispers  full  of  sweetness, 

"  This  is  the  Sabbath  day." 


TO    A    MOUNTAIN    BROOK. 


To  a  Aoantain 


Dear  little  brook,  what  a  lesson  you  teach  me, 
As  through  the  lone  forest  you  merrily  flow  ; 

Singing  and  sparkling  and  ever  contented 
To  make  some  one  happy  wherever  you  go. 

Cheering  the  sad  heart  of  some  weary  traveler, 
Many  a  wanderer  has  stood  at  your  brink, 

Where   you   have   charmed   him  by   smiling    so 

brightly, 
To  sing  him  a  song  or  to  give  him  a  drink. 

Calling  the  birds  to  your  side  by  your  music, 
You  give  them  refreshment,  and  ask  not  for  pay. 

Dear  little  brook,  you  have  set  me  a  copy 
And  taught  me  a  lesson  this  fair  summer  day. 


DAILY    BREAD. 


Dcril^ 


There  !     Do  not  look  far  ahead  ! 

Calmly  eat  your  daily  bread. 
Do  your  duty,  do  your  best, 

And  trust  God  to  do  the  rest. 


TvVILIGHT. 


Twilight. 


When  Beauty  breathes  her  soul  through  Nature's 
own, 

And  Nature  reverent  is,  and  peaceful  still, 
I,  sitting  silent,  thoughtful,  and  alone, 

Feel  all  my  soul  glow  with  a  mystic  thrill. 

A  fervent  adoration  seems  to  steal 

Upon  my  heart.     O  twilight  angel  dear, 

1  pray  you  lift  the  veil  which  1  can  feel, 
Reveal  the  world  of  spirits  hovering  near. 

And  now  a  whisper  low  and  faintly  seems 
To  breathe  into  my  listening  spirit's  ear ; 

The  while  I  bend  to  catch  the  sunset  beams, 
This  message  to  my  waiting  soul  I«hear : 

"  Seek  not  to  know  the  realm  that  lies  beyond 
The  veil ;  bright  sunset  clouds  are  now  unrolled, 

And  all  the  world  for  you  is  now  adorned 
With  dazzling  light  and  splendors  manifold. 

"  Behold  the  earth,  divine  it  doth  appear ! 

Ah,  heaven  alone  is  fairer ;  could  you  see 
Into  the  heart  of  this  that  wraps  you  here, 

You'd  see  the  soul  of  heaven's  mystery." 


MIDNIGHT. 


'Tis  midnight ;  darkness  reigneth  o'er  the  earth. 

The  moon  and  stars  like  eyes  of  metal  glare, 
And  seem  to  gaze  at  me  with  scorn  intense  and 
mirth. 

A  sense  of  littleness  pervades  the  air, 

And  I  inhale  it ;  meekly,  deeply  I  absorb 

My  fill  of  humbleness.    I  am  so  weak  and  small ; 

The  heavens,  the  worlds  above  me,  and  this  earthly 

orb 
Are  fearful — their  Creator  all  in  all. 

A  breath  of  awfulness  is  in  the  air, 
The  stillness  of  the  world  pervades  my  soul ; 

A  sense  of  power  enthroned  I  know  not  where 
Comes  o'er  my  senses.     Life  is  a  fearful  dole. 

And  what  am  I  that  I  should  dare  to  doubt 
Existence  of  a  wondrous  power  divine, 

When  1  behold  so  much  !  a  power  without  which 
Life  all  void  and  useless  would  be  mine. 

0  mighty  One,  whate'er,  where'er  thou  art, 
Who  madest,  who  rulest  the  wonders  which  I  see, 

1  do  not  dare  to  doubt.     Accept  my  heart, 

My  soul,  myself,  and  all  I  hope  to  be. 


THE    DRUNKARD'S    WIFE. 


TI)e  Dranljard'5  Wife.' 

A  dismal  scene.     A  gloomy  room, 

Damp,  fireless,  cheerless,  drear ; 
A  dimly  burning  lamp,  a  face 

Transfixed  with  pain  and  fear ; 
A  story  there  so  plainly  told, 

A  sad,  an  unloved  life. 
She  is  on  earth,  she  is  in  hell, 

She  is  a  drunkard's  wife. 

She  shivers  as  she  lifts  her  face, 

Then  buries  it  again 
Within  her  hands  ;  she  sighs,  she  sobs 

As  if  with  hidden  pain. 
O  God,  she  cannot  understand 

Why  she  is  thus  unblest; 
O  why  not  let  her  die,  and  find 

Sweet,  peaceful,  needed  rest  ? 

Again  she  lifts  her  face  ;  the  lamp 

Still  low  and  lower  burns. 
O  heaven,  for  fire,  for  light,  for  food, 

For  love  her  spirit  yearns. 
How  slow  the  moments  pass  ! 

And  will  it  e'er  be  light  ? 
Hark  !  the  town  clock  sadly  strikes 

The  hour  of  midnight. 


THE    DRUNKARD'S    WIFE. 


"  Twelve,  twelve  ;  "  no  other  sound  she  hears, 

And  will  her  soul  go  wild  ? 
Her  face  is  hard  with  bitter  woe, 

It  once  was  soft  and  mild. 
Her  silvery  hair,  so  thin  and  white, 

Once  shone  with  golden  gleams ; 
She  once  had  happiness  and  home, 

Now  she  has  only  dreams. 

Hark  !  O  he  comes,  the  drunkard  comes. 

She  opens  wide  the  door ; 
He  staggers  in  and  falls  a  heap 

Incarnate  on  the  floor. 
While  she  resumes  her  weary  watch 

Alone,  how  drear  her  life  ! 
O  mighty  God,  if  thou  art  God, 

Help  thou  the  drunkard's  wife  ! 


BONA    AND    MALA. 


and  ?\ata. 


I  have  two  firm  companions, 
And  they  are  very  queer  ; 

One  has  the  name  of  Bona, 
And  she  to  me  is  dear. 

Yet  oft  I  rudely  spurn  her, 

She  lingeringly  goes  ; 
And  then  her  bitter  rival 

Instantaneously  knows, 

And  comes  to  vex  my  spirit  ; 

You  can  surmise  her  name, 
Mala,  surnamed  Pessima, 

Destruction  is  her  aim. 

These  two,  my  strange  companions, 

Can  never  quite  agree  ; 
When  I  admit  the  one  in  heart, 

The  other  goes  from  me. 

Forever  they  are  near  me, 
From  morning  until  night. 

The  one  pleads  with  me  gently 
To  lead  me  in  the  right  ; 


BONA  AND  MALA. 


The  other  breathes  upon  me 
With  poison  in  her  breath, 

Then  brings  to  me  forbidden  fruit 
To  feed  me  on  to  death. 

When  I  look  hard  at  Mala, 
At  first  she  seems  so  bright ; 

Then  smaller  grows,  and  uglier, 
Then  disappears  from  sight. 

But  when  I  gaze  at  Bona, 
At  first  she  seems  so  small  ; 

Then  she  larger,  brighter  grows, 
Till  splendor  gleams  o'er  all. 


io8  THE    REASON    WHY. 


Tl)e 


Sometimes  my  heart  is  joyful, 

The  world  seems  gay  and  bright  ; 
Man  and  bird  and  beast  I  love, 

Toward  all  my  heart  is  right. 
And  really  as  I  sing  it  seems 

That  everything  is  good  ; 
It  seems  I  easily  could  preach 

A  sermon,  if  I  would. 


Again  my  heart  is  dismal, 

And  time  seems  dark  and  long  ; 
Man  and  bird  and  beast  I  hate, 

Toward  all  my  heart  is  wrong. 
And  as  I  frown  it  seems  to  me 

That  everything  is  bad, 
That  I  would  rid  myself  of  life 

If  God's  permit  I  had. 


I'll  tell  you  why  I  flitter 

From  righteousness  to  evil — 

Sometimes  I  entertain  the  Lord, 
And  sometimes  cheer  the  devil. 


WHIPPOORWILL. 


(i)I)tppoorvill. 

Day  is  sinking.     Night  is  rising. 

Breezes  whisper,  "  Peace,  be  still." 
Now  the  mild  command  out-braving, 

Comes  the  voice  of  whippoorwill. 
Clamorous  the  songs  he  sings  us, 

As  if  weary  of  the  calm, 
As  if  darkness  filled  him  strangely 

With  defiance  and  alarm. 


Human  nature's  sun  is  sinking  ; 

Some  one  whispers,  "  Peace,  be  still." 
Now  I  hear  the  voice  of  conscience, 

Human  nature's  whippoorwill. 


LILAC. 


I^ilac. 

When  I  inhale  the  fragrance 
Of  lilac  blooms  so  sweet, 

My  thoughts  go  quickly  backward, 
A  schoolhouse  old  I  greet. 

And  reverently  I  linger, 
The  place  to  me  is  dear ; 

E'en    now  sweet  childish  echoes 
Are  sounding  in  my  ear. 

Again  I  see  my  playmates, 
I  ne'er  shall  see  them  more  ; 

Again  we  pluck  the  lilacs 
That  blossomed  by  the  door. 

How  often  I  have  formed  them 
In  chains  ;  again  I  seem 

To  be  adorned  with  lilacs, 
The  present  is  a  dream. 

Ah,  fragrant,  purple  lilac, 

Your  slender  chains  have  power 
To  bind  me  to  my  childhood  ; 

I  treasure  you,  sweet  flower. 


MARY. 


In  a  lone,  secluded  valley, 

Far  from  clamor  of  a  town, 
Covered  o'er  with  vines  and  flowers, 

Stood  a  cottage  old  and  brown. 

This  was  Mary's  home  ;  'twas  humble  ; 

Yet  the  music  of  the  brooks 
Cheered  her  soul,  and  rest  was  perfect 

In  the  quiet  woodland  nooks. 

Though  sometimes  she  grew  uneasy, 

Longing  far  away  to  roam, 
Bravely  she  concealed  her  longing, 

For  she  loved  her  country  home. 

Plain  was  Mary,  shy,  and  hardly 
Daring  to  a  stranger  speak  ; 

Humble  was  she,  like  a  flower, 
For  she  knew  that  she  was  weak. 

Yet  she  dared  be  kind  and  loving, 
Dared  to  lighten  others'  care  ; 

And  the  valley  lost  its  sunshine 
When  it  lost  her  presence  fair. 


MARY. 


Helpful  was  she,  ready  ever 
To  do  all  within  her  power — 

Read  or  pray,  or,  if  'twas  needed, 
Watch  the  lonely  midnight  hour. 

For  the  living  toiled  she  gladly, 
Flowers  she  gathered  for  the  dead, 

And  the  feeble,  sick,  and  dying 
Showered  blessings  on  her  head. 


Hushed  the  valley,  stillness  reigneth, 
E'en  the  breeze  is  sadly  sighing ; 

Every  head  is  bowed  with  sorrow, 
For  "  our  Mary  "  now  is  dying. 

She  is  dead.  A  shadow  resteth 
O'er  the  valley  ;  all  is  still, 

Save  the  wailing  of  the  breezes 
Or  the  sobbing  of  the  rill. 


Years  have  passed,  and  fickle  Nature 
Has  forgot  her  sorrow  now  ; 

Breeze  and  brook  are  singing  gaily, 
Not  a  shadow  clouds  her  brow. 

Other  faces  cheer  the  valley, 
Others  laugh  and  sing  and  jest ; 

Mary,  in  her  grave  forgotten, 
Lies  in  quiet,  peaceful  rest. 


MARY. 


Lies  forgotten.     No  one  mentions 
Aught  of  life  so  pure  and  fair, 

No  one  knows  her  lone  grave,  passing, 
That  a  saint  lies  buried  there. 

Just  a  humble  slab  is  able 
Mary's  resting-place  to  tell, 

And  her  grave  is  guarded  only 
By  the  flowers  she  loved  so  well. 


HEAVEN. 


Heaven. 

Some  picture  heaven  a  city, 

With  many  streets  of  gold, 
With  pearly  gates,  with  mansions 

Whose  beauties  ne'er  were  told  ; 
Some  picture  it  a  forest, 

Where  many  flowers  blow, 
Where  bright-winged  birds  are  singing, 

With  music  soft  and  low. 

Some  picture  heaven  a  resting-place, 

Where  with  some  well  loved  friend 
They  hold  a  sweet  communion 

While  heart  with  heart  doth  blend. 
Some  picture  it  a  joyful  place, 

Where  music  e'er  is  heard, 
Where  white-robed  angels  sweetly  sing 

Till  every  pulse  is  stirred. 

I  know  not,  dare  not,  picture 

What  heaven  is  to  be ; 
But  this  I  know,  it  perfect  is, 

Prepared  for  you  and  me  ; 
And  Christ  is  there,  a  radiant  light, 

Our  friend,  companion,  lover, 
And  we  fore'er  content  will  be 

Around  that  light  to  hover. 


THE    CHILD. 


Tl)e 


I  love  a  child,  I'll  tell  you  why  — 
No  vile  deceit  is  in  its  eye, 
Its  soul  is  mirrored  clear  within, 
Untarnished,  free  from  any  sin. 

Its  heart  is  spotless,  free  from  guile, 

Sincerity  is  in  its  smile  ; 

No  flattery  is  in  its  words, 

Its  lispings  are  like  notes  of  birds. 

/ 

Like  angels  pure  and  undefiled, 

The  children  tarry  here  a  while 
Before  to  realms  of  sin  they  fly. 
1  love  a  child,  I've  told  you  why. 


n6  STRANGE. 


I  shuddered  as  I  saw  it, 

A  monster  far  away. 
It  nearer  came  !     I  trembled. 

Still  nearer !     Fearful  ?     Nay  ! 

When  by  my  side  it  glistened, 
An  angel  brilliant,  fair, 

'Twas  beautiful ;  its  awfulness 
Had  gone,  1  know  not  where. 


WHITE    VIOLETS. 


WI)ite  Violet^ 

Blue-veined  and  pure, 

Magical  flower, 
Not  with  haughtiness 

Dost  thou  tower. 

Humble  art  thou, 
Lowly  and  good. 

Thy  sweetness  telleth 
Thy  neighborhood. 


BLUE    VIOLETS. 


glae  Violets. 

I  heard  sweet  voices  singing, 
With  music  soft  and  sweet ; 

I  saw  the  singers  standing 
And  trembling  at  my  feet. 

A  silence,  then  I  listened, 

But  not  a  sound  I  heard, 
Save  the  murmur  of  a  brooklet 

Or  the  flutter  of  a  bird. 

"  Sing  on,  sweet  ones,"  I  whispered, 
"  My  heart  is  filled  with  love 

For  you,  dear  little  blessings, 
Emblems  of  heaven  above. 

"  Fear  not !     I  will  not  pluck  you  ; 

Know  that  I  am  your  friend. 
Sing  on,  let  your  sweet  voices 

In  fearless  music  blend." 

I  listened  in  amazement 

As  through  those  woody  dells 

There  rose  the  sweetest  music, 
Like  ringing  silver  bells. 

Do  you  not  know  the  singers — 

The  flowers  of  azure  hue, 
The  blooms  which  sing  of  springtime, 

The  violets  of  blue  ? 


CYNICISM. 


Life  is  vapid,  life  is  wretched  ! 

Death  alone  us  honor  brings. 
Yet  we  shrink  from  death,  but  to  life 

How  the  meanest  mortal  clings. 


LAND    OF    IMAGINATION. 


of  Imagination. 


A  dazzling,  fantastical  land, 
Ideal  and  supermundane  ; 

Cymophanous  and  brilliant, 
Inhabited  by  the  insane. 


TRUST. 


Question  not  your  Maker's  business, 
Know  you  not  that  he  is  just  ? 

He  has  made  you,  he  can  keep  you  ; 
Place  your  hand  in  his  and  trust. 


MONEY. 


Money  is  a  bird, 

Teach  it  how  to  fly, 
Send  it  out  into  the  world, 

Send  it  up  on  high  ; 
Then  it  will  come  flying  back, 

All  your  virtues  singing, 
And,  1  doubt  not,  many  pearls 

For  your  crown  be  bringing. 

Do  not  cage  the  bird, 

Surely  as  you  do, 
It  will  toss  itself  about 

Till  it  forces  through. 
Then  it  never  will  return, 

Though  for  it  you  die ; 
Do  not  cage  your  bird  of  wealth, 

Teach  it  how  to  fly. 


PRESENTIMENT.  123 


Presentiment. 

Presentiment  is  that  dark  cloud, 

That  swiftly  is  appearing  ; 
Which,  threatening,  silent,  tells  the  soul 

A  gathering  storm  is  nearing. 


DON'T    BE    DECEIVED. 


Don't  ge  Deceived. 

Youth  has  many  dreams  of  love, 
Like  clouds  across  the  sky  above, 

Beautiful  but  fleeting. 

But  some  day  youth  from  dreams  will  wake, 
When  true  love  comes  the  heart  to  take, 

The  very  life  completing. 


DANDELION. 


Dandelion. 

I  saw  a  sturdy  dandelion, 

With  hair  than  gold  more  bright. 
A  week  passed  on,  his  golden  hair 

Was  turned  to  silken  white. 

Another  week,  his  poll  was  bare; 

Another — where  was  he  ? 
Ah,  dandelion,  strangely  you 

Prefigure  life  to  me. 


DAY    AND    NIGHT. 


and  Ntcrl)t. 


A  dazzling  queen,  with  rosy  face, 
With  hair  of  gold  and  garments  light, 

Approached  the  earth  with  fairy  tread, 
And  thus  addressed  her  sister,  Night  : 

"Away,  vile  sister,  get  you  hence  ! 

You  bring  but  woe  and  crime  and  shame, 
You  shield  the  drunkard  and  the  thief, 

You  blast  and  darken  many  a  name. 

"  Give  place  to  me.     1  come  with  cheer, 
I  come  with  hope  and  truth  and  light, 

Your  hidden  crimes  I  will  reveal  — 
Away  with  you,  foul,  cruel  Night." 

The  cheek  of  Night  grew  pale  with  grief, 
Her  teardrops  fell  on  flower  and  grass, 

She  spoke:  "O  fair-faced  sister  Day, 
Hear  but  a  word  before  I  pass. 

"  I  am  not  all  accursed,  for  souls 
Who,  weary,  long  for  sleep  and  rest, 

With  gladness  see  thee  pass,  and  hail 
My  coming,  call  me  sweet  and  blest. 


DAY    AND    NIGHT. 


"  I  shield  the  wrong,  I  cover  crime; 

But  crimes  which  only  God  can  see, 
The  vilest  crimes  by  earth  o'erlooked, 

Fair  sister,  refuge  find  with  thee." 

Day  answered  not.     Night  disappeared. 

The  world  awoke;  all  life  was  stirred. 
Those  ardent  words  of  Day  and  Night 

No  ear  save  mine  and  Nature's  heard. 


i28  IN    UNION    IS    STRENGTH. 


In  Union  Is 


"  'Tis  time,"  proclaimed  a  snowflake, 
As  through  the  cloud  he  whirled, 

"  For  us  to  join  together 
And  subdue  the  dying  world. 

"  Let  us  unite  together, 
And  fall  with  all  our  might, 

And  e'er  another  morning 
We  will  hide  the  earth  from  sight." 

So  the  snowflakes  rushed  together, 
And  fell  with  all  their  might — 

With  Frost  for  king,  fell  bravely  down, 
And  covered  earth  from  sight. 


A    SPECIAL    PLACE. 


A  Special  Place. 

Come  now,  cast  off  your  gloom, 

With  smiles  now  wreathe  your  face  ; 
Throw  off  this  spirit  of  unrest, 

You're  needed  in  your  place. 
Has  Christ  not  said,  "  1  will  prepare 

A  place  for  you  in  heaven  "? 
Then  surely  on  this  earth  to  you 

A  special  place  is  given. 


ANYWHERE. 


Anywhere  'neath  heaven's  blue 
There  is  something  good  to  do. 


51)owers  of  Pressing. 

You  say  there  are  dark  clouds  around  you, 
That  God  does  not  hear  when  you  call  ? 

Be  still ;  were  there  ne'er  clouds  above  you, 
No  showers  of  blessing  would  fall ! 


TO    A    PANSY. 


To  a 

(O«  a  sunny  day.) 

Dear  little  flower,  how  lovely  you  are. 

Your  tiny  bright  face  makes  me  think  of  a  star. 

Your  manner  is  winning,  your  heart  is  light, 
And  the  smile  on  your  face  is  happy  and  bright. 

Sweet  little  pansy,  your  beauty  I  love, 
I  regard  you  a  gift  from  our  Father  above. 


TO    A    PANSY. 


To  a 

(On  a  rainy  day.} 

High-colored  flower,  ungraceful  of  shape, 
Your  impudent  face  makes  me  think  of  an  ape. 

My  heart  is  lonely  and  sad  as  can  be, 
And  here  you  stand,  making  faces  at  me. 

Pansy,  I  hate  you  ;  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
Why   God  ever  suffered  such  a  rude  flower  to 
blow. 


UNHEARD    MELODIES. 


Unheard 


Our  hearts  are  enriched  by  the  music 
That  comes  from  the  throat  of  a  bird. 

O  what  of  the  infinite  sweetness 
Of  melodies  by  us  unheard  ! 


A    LESSON. 


A  Lesson. 

I  saw  a  gipsy  woman, 

A  wretched  creature,  wild, 
With  shabby  dress,  and  holding 

By  one  gaunt  hand,  a  child. 

A  stately  lady  neared  her ; 

One  glance  of  scorn  she  cast, 
Then  drew  her  skirts  around  her, 

And  proudly  glided  past. 

Just  then  a  ray  of  sunlight 
Streamed  at  the  gipsy's  feet, 

And  brightened  all  her  path.     The  child 
Sprang  forward,  merry,  fleet, 

And  tried  to  grasp  its  brightness. 

The  mother  sadly  smiled — 
And  then  the  sunbeam  passed  to  shade, 

And  it  was  not  defiled. 


STAMPED. 


Stamped. 

There  was  a  coin  stamped  and  bright, 
'Twas  crushed  beneath  the  ground, 

'Tvvas  weather-rusted,  still  a  coin  ; 
The  stamp  can  there  be  found. 

There  is  a  soul,  all  sin-begrimed, 
That  never  breathed  a  prayer. 

Be  patient,  for  it  is  a  soul  ; 
God's  stamp  is  surely  there. 


ij6  NATURE    BREAKS    HER    FAST. 


Natare  I>recrKs  Her 


Lift  the  cover  off  her  dish, 

Nature's  night  is  past. 
Now  she,  rising,  waiting,  stands, 

See  her  break  her  fast. 

First  with  fingers  wet  with  dew 
She  throws  away  the  night, 

Then  with  brightly  beaming  face, 
Clad  in  garments  light, 

Eats  her  breakfast,  fog  and  clouds, 
Mixed  with  shade  and  sun  ; 

Then  she  drinks,  from  flowery  cups, 
Dewdrops,  every  one. 


AN    OBJECT     LESSON. 


An  Object 


A  goblet  filled  with  crystal  clear, 

With  water  pure  as  truth, 
But  represents  with  vivid  force 

The  purity  of  youth- 
Youth,  ere  the  stain  and  force  of  sin 

Has  entered  in  the  soul  ; 
Youth  filled  with  purity  and  life, 

Complete  in  Christ,  and  whole. 

Another  goblet  here  appears, 

With  liquid  red  within. 
This  represents  with  no  less  force 

The  awfulness  of  sin  ; 
And  just  one  drop  of  liquid  red, 

If  dropped  in  liquid  clear, 
Will  change  the  color  of  the  whole, 

And  stained  'twill  all  appear. 

'Tis  colored  now,  no  longer  pure. 

The  drop  of  red  so  small 
Has  stealthily  crawled  through  the  Whole, 

And  changed  the  water  all. 
Now  what  will  take  it  out  again, 

And  make  it  all  appear 
Again  the  symbol  of  fair  youth, 

Like  water,  pure  and  clear  ? 


r,3  AN    O3JECT    LESSDN. 


Water  can  do  it,  see  it  now, 

As  the  water  floweth  in, 
The  red  is  swiftly  running  out, 

Now  all  is  clear  within. 
Ah,  see  !  'tis  full,  'tis  running  o'er, 

'Tis  flowing  in  the  bowl. 
And  so  it  is  with  human  life — 

With  man's  immortal  soul. 


Aye,  so  it  is  with  human  life — 

One  sinful  deed,  'tis  true, 
Will  mar  the  beauty  of  the  soul, 

And  permeate  it  through. 
Then,  youth,  beware  ;  O  trifle  not 

With  sin,  however  slight, 
For  it  will  mar  your  purity 

And  drive  away  the  right. 


But  Christ  has  said,  "  Whoever  will 

May  come  to  me  and  live, 
May  freely  drink  the  stream  of  life  ; 

His  sins  1  will  forgive. 
And,  though  your  sins  like  scarlet  be, 

Come  unto  me,  and  know 
That  1  can  make  them  white  as  wool, 

Can  make  them  like  the  snow." 


AN    OBJECT    LESSON. 


Then,  sinner,  come  ;   His  promise  claim, 

With  every  sin  now  part. 
Bid  Christ  come  in,  to  dwell  within 

And  purify  your  heart. 
Drink  freely  from  the  stream  of  life, 

And  do  not  be  sufficed 
Till  you  are  full  and  running  o'er 

With  life  and  love  of  Christ. 


HATE. 


Hate. 

Hate  is  that  rumbling  monster 
Who  hurled  the  flashing  dagger 
That  pierced  the  heavens, 
And  drenched  the  earth, 
And  made  you  homeward  stagger. 


MISSIONARY    LESSON    PROM    NATURE. 


Lesson  from  Nature. 


Nature  holds  the  sweetest  lessons 

For  the  aged  and  the  young, 
If  we  but  with  love  translate  her, 

We  shall  hear  a  heavenly  tongue. 
Underneath  a  stone  some  flowers, 

Dying,  crushed  in  bondage,  lay  ; 
With  but  thoughts  of  love  and  pity, 

Quick  1  rolled  the  stone  away. 

With  the  sunlight's  beams  upon  them, 

Soon  they  flourished,  soon  they  grew  ; 
This  the  lesson  Nature  gave  me, 

Which  in  turn  I  give  to  you: 
Like  those  flowers  souls  are  dying,. 

Crushed  by  darkness  worse  than,  night  ; 
Hasten,  free  them  from  their  bondage, 

Tell  them  of  our  God,  our  light  ! 


THANKSGIVING. 


Tfyanl^giving. 

Ye  who  dwell  in  homes  of  comfort, 

Having  every  want  supplied, 
Who  with  parents,  brothers,  sisters, 

Are  contented,  satisfied, 
Pause  a  moment  in  your  gladness, 

Lift  your  hearts  to  God  above, 
All  these  countless  blessings  reach  you 

From  the  fullness  of  his  love. 

Ye  who  dwell  in  humble  dwellings, 

Shiv'ring,  cold,  and  hungry  too, 
Still  be  thankful,  and  remember 

That  your  Father  cares  for  you. 
Thank  him,  for  above  in  splendor 

Is  a  mansion  firm  and  sure, 
Which  for  you  is  waiting,  waiting, 

And  which  will  fore'er  endure. 


STORY    OF    LIFE. 


of  Life 

Morning,  springtime,  flowers  budding, 

Sparkling  grass,  dew  diamonds  bright, 
Here,  a  river  sparkles  gaily, 

There,  a  cottage  is  in  sight ; 
From  the  cottage  steps  a  vision, 

Vision  of  sweet  childhood's  grace, 
Floating  hair  and  brown  eyes  fearless, 

And  a  merry,  laughing  face. 

Footstep  light  and  form  of  willow, 

To  a  mead  she  wends  her  way  ; 
Gathers  pebbles,  buds,  and  grasses, 

And  then,  weary  of  her  play, 
Lies  beneath  a  bush  of  rosebuds, 

Soon  is  resting,  fast  asleep, 
Happily  in  dreamland  wanders, 

While  the  angels  vigil  keep. 

Noonday,  summer,  flowers  blooming, 

By  a  fragrant  rosebush  fair 
Stands  a  lover,  youthful,  manly, 

And  a  girl  with  golden  hair. 
He  is  speaking,  bending,  earnest. 

"Yes,"  she  whispers,  soft  and  sweet. 
Hand  in  hand  they  leave  the  roses, 

Paths  unknown  to  them  they  greet. 


STORY    OF    LIFE. 


Autumn.     Ah,  the  day  is  fading, 

Yet  the  ripened  fruit  doth  wave, 
And  beneath  the  leafless  rosebush 

Is  a  lonely,  silent  grave. 
O'er  it  kneels  a  black-robed  woman — 

Kneeling,  sobs  her  life  away, 
While  the  golden  sun  is  setting 

And  while  shadows  fill  the  day. 


Winter,  evening,  snow  is  falling, 

All  the  landscape  gleams  with  white, 
And  the  earth  is  cold  and  deathlike, 

Not  a  rosebush  is  in  sight. 
Childhood,  youth,  and  age  have  vanished 

Yet  a  picture  meets  our  gaze — 
Like  a  gate  to  joys  immortal, 

Side  by  side  two  silent  graves. 


REST    AND    WORK. 


Rest  and 


What  is  rest  ?     'Tis  change  of  labor, 
Hoping,  loving,  day  by  day. 

What  is  work  ?     'Tis  constant  worship, 
Prayer  unceasing  —  let  us  pray. 


146  ATLANTIC. 


Atlantic. 

I've  fallen  in  love  with  a  rough  old  chap, 
He  is  black  and  blue  and  green, 

And  boisterous,  and  so  very  large 
That  his  half  was  never  seen. 

He  roars  at  me  both  day  and  night, 

I  love  him  just  the  same. 
You  will  not  wonder  when  I  say, 

Atlantic  is  his  name. 


CLOUD-EDENS. 


[Class  Poem,  New  Hampton,  June  23,  1892.] 

Morning  dawned.     The  brilliant  sunbeams 

Flooded  all  the  land  with  light ; 
Blue  and  clear  the  sky  above,  and 

Not  a  cloud  was  there  in  sight. 
Peaceful,  tranquil,  like  an  Eden 

Was  the  morning,  calm  and  clear ; 
Yet  unseen  the  clouds  were  gathering, 

And  a  storm  was  brooding  near. 

Ere  the  sun  had  reached  the  zenith 

Gloomy  shadows  like  a  shroud 
Veiled  the  world,  its  sunny  Eden 

Was  but  resting  on  a  cloud. 
Soon  the  sky  above  was  darkened, 

Clouds  its  azure  hid  from  view  ; 
Fiercely  then  the  storm  descended, 

Frightened  birds  then  homeward  flew. 

Soon  the  world  was  filled  with  beauty, 

Clearer,  grander,  than  before, 
And  a  gleaming  bow  of  promise 

Told  the  soul  the  storm  was  o'er ; 
While  the  brightened  world  seemed  saying, 

"  Storms  are  blessings  in  disguise; 
Men  and  birds  and  flowers  would  perish 

Were  there  always  sunny  skies." 


i48  CLOUD-EDENS. 


Classmates  in  this  verdant  valley, 

Which  like  Eden  seems  to  me, 
We  have  lived  as  in  the  sunlight, 

Scarce  a  shadow  could  we  see ; 
Yet  unseen  the  clouds  were  gath'ring, 

Brooding,  darkening,  and  to-day 
Full  the  storm  has  burst  upon  us— 

Is  there  in  our  sky  one  ray 


Of  bright  sunlight  yet  to  cheer  us  ? 

'Neath  the  clouds  so  dark  and  drear, 
Is  a  gleaming  rainbow  hiding  ? 

Is  there  gladness  to  appear  ? 
Ah,  to-day  the  sky  is  darkened, 

Yet  within  its  misty  haze 
Pictures  dimly  from  the  future 

Seem  to  meet  my  ardent  gaze. 


In  the  distance,  faces  smiling, 

Half-unseen,  appear  to  me  ; 
Gleaming,  bright  air-castles,  classmates, 

On  Ambition's  hill  I  see. 
Onward,  then,  ascend  the  mountain, 

Do  not  fear  the  tempests  loud  ; 
But,  when  you  have  reached  your  Eden. 

Know  'tis  resting  on  a  cloud. 


CLOUD-EDENS. 


Though  we  leave  this  little  village, 

Oft  we'll  linger  here  again  ; 
Of  this  dear  old  Institution 

Tender  memories  will  remain. 
To  this  quiet,  peaceful  valley 

Fondly  e'er  our  hearts  will  cling. 
Oft  we'll  hear  the  church  bell  tolling, 

Oft  we'll  hear  our  school  bell  ring. 


We  must  part,  and  though  the  future 

Bring  us  glory,  wealth,  and  fame— 
Or,  if  we  should  fall  from  honor, 

Earn  and  bear  a  tarnished  name — 
Yet  sweet  memories  will  bind  us 

With  the  chains  of  love  and  truth, 
We  can  ne'er  forget  our  classmates 

And  the  school-days  of  our  youth. 


E'en  when  age  with  snowy  fingers 

Shall  have  touched  our  hair  with  white,, 
Memories  still  will  cheer  our  pathway, 

As  the  moon  illumes  the  night. 
And  as  to  the  misty  future 

Dimly  now  our  fancies  tend, 
May  we  take  with  us  our  motto, 

"  Let  us  on  ourselves  depend." 


CLOUD-EDENS. 


And  though  every  golden  sunbeam 

Must  be  hidden  by  a  shroud, 
And  though  every  earthly  Eden 

Is  o'ershadowed  by  a  cloud, 
Yet  sweet  Nature  oft  has  taught  us 

That  no  storm  can  long  abide, 
That  beneath  the  clouds  which  bind  us 

Lovingly  the  sunbeams  hide. 


INTROSPECTION. 


Introspection. 

1  read  the  thoughts  of  great  poets, 

For  me  there's  a  pearl  in  each  line  ; 
I  read  them,  I  learn  them,  repeat  them, 

Till  it  seems  as  if  their  thoughts  are  mine. 
And  then  fond  hopes  come  stealing  upon  me, 

And  a  voice  whispers  low  in  my  ear, 
"  You  too  shall  sing  sweet  songs  of  magic, 

And  your  songs  the  whole  world  shall  hear." 

Who  is  it  that  whispered  ?     'Tis  Fancy. 

And  I  clasp  her  close  to  my  breast ; 
She  fills  me  with  happiness,  misery, 

With  hopefulness,  tumult,  unrest ; 
And  I  question,  "And  will  it  be,  Fancy, 

That  1  such  sweet  meters  will  sing 
That  all  the  world  humbly  will  listen  ? 

Will  they  riches  and  fame  to  me  bring  ? 

Then  sadly  sweet  Fancy  made  answer, 

"  Look  into  your  heart ;  is  it  pure  ? 
Are  you  trying  to  win  earthly  honor, 

Or  riches  which  e'er  will  endure  ? 
Are  you  looking  to  Jesus  to  help  you, 

Is  your  heart  with  God's  beauty  aflame, 
Or  is  it  earth's  treasures  you're  seeking — 

Earth's  riches,  earth's  honor,  earth's  fame  ? 


INTROSPECTION. 


Her  voice  was  like  magic.     I  listened, 

Then  answered,  "Ah,  Fancy,  you  know 
How  God's  mercy,  his  goodness  and  justice, 

Just  makes  my  full  heart  overflow. 
In  each  flower,  in  each  le-af  is  a  poem, 

I  long  its  true  meaning  to  find  ; 
I  long  to  translate  Nature  truly, 

I  long  to  give  sight  to  the  blind. 

"  I  long  to  sing  balm  for  the  weary, 

1  long  to  give  hope  to  the  sad, 
I  long  to  give  faith  to  the  doubting, 

1  long  to  bring  grace  for  the  bad, 
I  long  to  sing  songs  which  will  strengthen, 

Which  will  guide  souls  to  heaven  above, 
I  long  to  make  everyone  purer, 

For  my  heart  is  o'erflowing  with  love." 

God  help  me  to  sing  songs  of  magic, 

But  make  all  my  singing  a  loss, 
If  I  glory  in  aught  save  Christ  Jesus, 

His  life,  his  perfection,  his  cross. 
Inspire  me,  O  God,  with  thy  spirit, 

While  I  rest  and  learn  at  thy  feet. 
Let  thy  heart  and  my  heart  and  Nature's 

Beat  together  in  unison  sweet. 


DATE  DUE 


•  inn  o 

n  1987 

MAK  £ 

DFP'fl  iVlA 

U    lout 

D  o  o  IQB; 

• 

r\uu  u  w* 

\     fj     «.       IwWi 

GAYLORD 

PRINTED  IN  U    S   A 

3   1970  00576  8749 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000307007    5 


